On his return to Ireland he turned that scheme of
his over and over again in his head. Surely something
might be done if the priest would stand his friend!
What if he were to tell the whole truth to the priest,
and ask for such assistance as a priest might give
him? But the one assurance to which he came during
his journey was this;—that when a man goes
in for adventures, he requires a good deal of skill
and some courage too to carry him through them.
From bad to worse.
As he was returning to Ennis Neville was so far removed
from immediate distress as to be able to look forward
without fear to his meeting with the two ladies at
Ardkill. He could as yet take his Kate in his
arms without any hard load upon his heart, such as
would be there if he knew that it was incumbent upon
him at once to explain his difficulties. His
uncle was still living, but was old and still ill.
He would naturally make the most of the old man’s
age and infirmities. There was every reason why
they should wait, and no reason why such waiting should
bring reproaches upon his head. On the night
of his arrival at his quarters he despatched a note
to his Kate.
Dearest love.
Here I am again in the land of freedom
and potatoes. I need not trouble you with
writing about home news, as I shall see you the day
after to-morrow. All to-morrow and Wednesday morning
I must stick close to my guns here. After
one on Wednesday I shall be free. I will drive
over to Lahinch, and come round in the boat.
I must come back here the same night, but I suppose
it will be the next morning before I get to bed.
I sha’n’t mind that if I get something
for my pains. My love to your mother. Your
own,
F. N.
In accordance with this plan he did drive over to
Lahinch. He might have saved time by directing
that his boat should come across the bay to meet him
at Liscannor, but he felt that he would prefer not
to meet Father Marty at present. It might be
that before long he would be driven to tell the priest
a good deal, and to ask for the priest’s assistance;
but at present he was not anxious to see Father Marty.
Barney Morony was waiting for him at the stable where
he put up his horse, and went down with him to the
beach. The ladies, according to Barney, were quite
well and more winsome than ever. But,—and
this information was not given without much delay
and great beating about the bush,—there
was a rumour about Liscannor that Captain O’Hara
had “turned up.” Fred was so startled
at this that he could not refrain from showing his
anxiety by the questions which he asked. Barney
did not seem to think that the Captain had been at
Ardkill or anywhere in the neighbourhood. At any
rate he, Barney, had not seen him. He had just
heard the rumour. “Shure, Captain, I wouldn’t
