"Whist, whist, Emon mavourneen, don't talk that way; you are better, blessed be God! I must, indeed, go home, Emon, as you say, for my heart is torn about my poor father. God bless you, Emon, my own Emon!" And she stooped down and kissed his pale lips.
Cotter and she then left the house and made all the speed they could toward Rathcash. They had not gone very far when Cotter heard Mrs. Lennon coming back along the road, and they saw her turn in toward her own house.
Bully-dhu having satisfied himself that nothing further was to be apprehended from the senseless form of a man upon the kitchen floor, and finding it impossible to burst open the door where his master was confined, thought the next best thing that he could do was to bemoan the state of affairs outside the house, in hope of drawing some help to the spot. Accordingly he took his post immediately at the house-door, still determined to be on the safe side, for fear the man was scheming. Here he set up a long dismal and melancholy howl.
"My father is dead," said Winny; "there is the Banshee."
"Not at all, Miss Winny; that is a dog."
"It is all the same; Bully-dhu would not cry that way for nothing; there is somebody dead, I'm sure."
"It is because he knew you were gone, Miss Winny, and he did not know where to look for you; that's all, you may depend."
"Thank you, Cotter; the dog might indeed do that same. God grant it is nothing worse!"
By this time they were at the door, and Cotter followed Bully-dhu into the house. Winny, without looking right or left, rushed to her father's room. She found it locked, but, quickly turning the key, she burst in. It was now broad daylight, and she saw at a glance her father stretched upon the bed, still bound hand and foot. She flew to the table, and taking his razor cut the cords. The poor old man was quite exhausted from suspense, excitement, and the fruitless physical efforts he had been making to free himself.
"Thank God, father!" she exclaimed; "I hope you are not hurt."