The stranger started at the tones of her voice, and on gazing at her for a moment, flung the card to a distance, and catching her in his arms, kissed away the tears which covered her cheeks, as she struggled for release.
“Is it you,” he said with much emotion, “that I promised to purtect?—You, who succored an' saved me when I was dyin' for want? An' are you the daughter ov Whelan the procthor?”
The men, perplexed at the apparition of the child, mechanically had released their prisoner; and he, starting up with the sudden hope of freedom, stood confronting the stranger, who yet held his child.
“Gracious Providence!” he exclaimed in wonder, as the moonlight streamed on the face he was trying to recognize—“Is id—can id be Robert Dillon?”
“Yis, Whelan!” was the answer, “it is the man you name—the man you caused to be thried an' banished, an' the man who came here to have revange!”
“Oh. don't hurt him—don't hurt him—he is my father,” cried the little Minny who now also seemed to recognize him.
“Iv he was surrounded wid fiends,” answered Dillon, kissing her fair smooth brow, “iv he was for ever on the watch, I'd still have my revenge: bud for your sake, sweet, good-natured child—for your sake, I'll not allow him to be touched!”
A murmur here began to rise among some of the men, while the leader, with one or two others, seemed to take part with the returned son of Nanny Dillon. Upon this he added—
“I was weary an' wake wid fatigue an' hunger—I couldn't move a step further than jist to lave the road an' lie in a dhry ditch, as I thought, to die, jist as I complated the journey to my native place! But this little girl—this goolden-haired child—kem to me, an' raised my head, an' poured a sweet draught of milk into my mouth, an' brought me food, an' sat by me, an' talked wid me, till I was at last able to join wid you! An' afther this—afther this, would you have me harm any one belongin' to her—even though he is my bitterest inimy?”
The quick changing of purpose—the sudden transitions of the Irish nature—are proverbial; and then those who had been loudest in their murmurs were loudest in their cries of approval; and a deep huzza of exultation at the magnanimity he displayed, told Dillon that he had little to fear from their opposition. So once more embracing the little girl, he gave her hand to her father, and taking the leader's arm, strode away, exclaiming: