"Barry, brother, you have forgiven me for that stone I threw at ye on Fanad Head?--ay, and the poor old mother is gone, and father too--and the guns are in Kilgorman--and Wolfe Tone is coming--and the French are preparing to deliver us; yes, they are on the way--and a time of joy is coming to Ireland--Barry, Barry, do ye hear the rustle of silk by the hearthstone? Do ye think the ghost is here?--I hear something--put but the light, boy, and lie close--there, there--my God, it is mother!" and he swooned away. I thought he was dead, and I began to pray, when I heard him murmur,-- "Barry, are ye there, dear?--I can't see ye at all, at all. Why don't ye light the lamp?--there is no air!--open the window!--light, light, give me light!" and he fell back dead. It was the bitterest, saddest moment of my life. Yet I felt a curious envy of him. He was out of the whirl and confusion and chaos of our unhappy time! Peace be with him! I loved him as my own soul, with a love which was not weakened but made only more pathetic to me that his ideals for the happiness of our loved country were not my ideals. But there was comfort for me--of a kind I perhaps little deserved--close at hand. When I had drawn my coat over Tim's face, I rushed upstairs, calling aloud as I went,-- "Kit, Kit, I am coming! where are you, Kit?" Then by-and-by I heard, far off, from a remote attic up in the roof of the rambling old building to which I had never before penetrated--I heard, faintly, a voice calling me by name, which fell on my heart like sweetest music. And when the rusty key had turned in the rusty old lock, and the crazy door was pushed open, I found a pair of arms flung tightly about my neck, and a pair of lips pressed close against mine, with cries of "Thank God, Barry! thank God, Barry! you are here at last." It was a meeting of smiles and tears, of most delicious joy, with a background of infinite sadness. Kit and Biddy McQuilkin were quickly brought by me to more comfortable quarters in Knockowen, and where they were more likely to have better protection. Captain Felton, on my signal, came ashore from the _Gnat_, and I found in him a friend indeed. He urged me to take Kit and Biddy to the house of his aunt (the widow of one of the canons of Salisbury Cathedral), who lived a peaceful life in one of the quaint old houses in the Close of that lovely cathedral city--at any rate until quieter times for Ireland. Not only this, but he managed so that Kit and Biddy and I were landed at Stranraer, on the Scottish coast, bearing letters from him to his aunt, who received us hospitably, and in whose care I was content to leave my beloved one, with a lighter heart concerning her than I had experienced during all the years I had known her.