“Humphrey!” she exclaimed, in a voice which staggered me, “talk not like a fool. I have forfeited his love. He did well to leave me without a word! I have been worse to him than his worst enemy. I dare not see him again, for he will loathe me. You must take me hence, or, truly, I will go without leave.”
“Maiden,” said I, “have patience. This is the act of God, not of man; and Ludar when he returns may need your comfort sorely.”
She laughed bitterly.
“I know Ludar,” she said; “you know him not. Think you the sight of me will not drive him mad when he comes back, brotherless?”
“At least,” said I, “be content to wait here till to-morrow. I should be a traitor to him and myself were I to let you depart unattended; and I may not leave, here till he or the old chief comes.”
“Will Sorley Boy be here to-morrow?” asked she.
“He will; he has said so.”
“Then,” said she, “I stay on this condition. Tell him naught of me but that I am an O’Neill, a prisoner here, who demand to be restored to my father, Turlogh Luinech O’Neill. Ludar will not return yet. When he does, he shall find me gone. Go back to the wall, Humphrey. No man shall say again I stood between him and his duty.”
I returned sadly enough to my post; and all that night we kept weary watch on the walls, straining our ears for Ludar’s call or news of the battle.
But neither Ludar nor news of him came.