“And the young miller, Mary? people say you are about to marry him. Is he slandered, too?”
“God sees he is,” was the response.
“Any nightly meetings at the chapel, Mary?” said the Colonel. The girl changed colour again: “None, your honour—not one. Thanks be to God! the bad people have left the parish.”
“When did you see your brother? To-night?” said the Colonel sharply.
“To-night!” returned the girl, in tones which indicated deep confusion.
“I am jesting, Mary. Where is he now?”
“In Connaught, your honour, with a cousin of my mother’s.”
“There let him remain, Mary. There, he will be safe until things become more quiet. But, Mary, the times are not as they were five years ago, when you and I used to meet by moonlight near the bouilee. * Pshaw! don’t blush;—it was only to gather bilberries, and exchange kisses for new ribbons. Did you come here alone?—no lover—no comrade—none to bear you company?”
* The mountain bivouac of the peasant girls, where during
the summer months they attend to the cattle which are then
driven to the hills.
“I put my trust in God,” said the girl, “and then, Colonel, you know I was safe.”