“She’ll do for looks too,” said Miss Mary. “She takes them with her singing from her mother, who was my dear companion before this trouble rose.” “Oh! she looks like--like--like the _gruagach_ girl in the story,” said Gilian, remembering the tale of the sea-maiden who sat on the shore and dressed her hair with a comb of gold. “I hope she’s not so uncanny,” said Miss Mary with a laugh, “for the _gruagach_ combed till a sweetheart came (that I should be talking of such daft-like things!), and he was drowned and that was the end of him.” “Still--still,” said Gilian, “the _gruagach_ was worth the drowning for.” Miss Mary looked at him with a sigh for a spirit so much to be envied. “This may be but a chapter in a very old tale,” said she. “It was with a lass the feud came in.” A saying full of mystery to the boy. Then she changed the conversation back to her own affairs. “We’ll take a walk out in the gloaming and see all the Sheriff’s friends,” said she, “and all the Sheriff’s friends in this supper are Turner’s friends and the Paymaster’s enemies.” The night of the Sheriff’s supper party came with heavy showers and a sky swept by clouds that let through glimpse of moon nor star. The town lay in pitch darkness, all silent except for the plash of the sea upon the shore or its long roll on the Ramparts. A deserted and wind-swept street, its white walls streaming with waters, its outer shutters on the ground fiats barred to darkness, its gutters running over--it was the last night on which any one with finery and a notion for comfort would choose for going abroad to parties. Miss Mary, sitting high at her parlour window with Gilian, looked out through the blurred pane with satisfaction upon all this inclemency. “Faith,” said she, “I wish them joy of their party whoever they be that share it!” Then all at once her mood changed to one of pity as the solitary street showed a moving light upon its footway. “Oh!” she cried. “There’s Donacha Breck’s lantern and his wife will be with him. And to-day she was at me for my jelly for a cold! I wish--I wish she was not over the door this night; it will be the death of her. To-morrow I must send her over the last of my Ladyfield honey.” From the window and in the darkness of the night, it was impossible to tell who were for the Sheriffs party, so Miss Mary in the excess of her curiosity must be out after a time and into the dripping darkness, with Gilian by her side for companionship. It was an adventure altogether to his liking. As he walked up and down the street on its darker side he could think upon the things that were happening behind the drawn blinds and bolted shutters. It was as if he was the single tenant of a sleeping star and guessing at the mysteries of a universe. Stories were happening behind the walls, fires were glimmering, suppers were set, each family for the time being was in a world of its own, split off from its neighbours by the darkness.