As I staggered home, leaning my back against the wind, I could not help wondering what this strange boat might be, and why she should make for the lough on so perilous a course. She might be a smuggler anxious to avoid the observation of the revenue officers. If so, her cargo must be precious indeed to make up for the risk she ran. Or she might be a foreigner, driven in by one of the king's cruisers, which had not dared to follow her into the bay. Whatever she was, she was a pretty sailer, and prettily handled. I wondered if ever I, when I grew to be a man, should be able to weather a point as skilfully. It was night before I reached our cabin, and all there was dark. Neither Tim nor father was home, the fire was out on the hearth, and the poor fevered sufferer lay tossing and breathing hard on the bed. She was worse, far worse than when we left her in the morning; and I could have died of shame when I came to think that all those hours she had lain alone and untended. I struck a light and put it in the window. "Is that Barry?" said she faintly. "Ay, mother, it's Barry," said I, going to the bed and bending over her. "Bring the light, and let me look at you," she said. I obeyed. She scrutinised my face eagerly, and then turned her head wearily on the pillow. "Barry," said she presently. "Well?" said I, as I took the hot worn hand in mine. She lay silent a long while, so that I thought she had fallen asleep, then she said,-- "Where is father?" "Away with the boats." "And Tim?" "I can't say. Tim and I fought the day, and--" "Fought? Ay, there'll be fighting enough before wrong's made right, Barry. Listen! I'm dying, son, but I must see him before I go." "Is it Tim?" said I. "No." Then she lifted herself in her bed, and her face was wild and excited as she clutched my hand. "Barry, it's Gorman I must see-- Maurice Gorman. Fetch him to me. Make him come. Tell him I'm a dying woman, and must speak before I go. There's time yet--go, Barry!" "Mr Gorman!" exclaimed I. What could my mother want with his honour down at Knockowen? "Ay, and quickly--or it will be too late." Knockowen was across the lough, five miles up above Dunree. It would be hours on a night like this before he could be here. But my mother continued to moan, "Go, Barry--make haste." So, much against my will, I put on my cap and prepared to leave her alone. At the door she called me back. "Kiss me, Barry," said she. Then before I could obey her she fell to raving. "Give me back the lassie," she cried, "dead or alive. She's more to me than all Kilgorman! Trust me, Mr Maurice--I'll breathe never a word if you'll but save Mike. It's false--he never had a hand in it! Some day truth will out--if the lad's mine no harm shall come to him. I'll use him against you, Mr Maurice. The truth's buried, but it's safe. There's more than earth under a hearthstone." And she laughed in a terrible way. After a minute she opened her eyes again and saw me.