“What a change will be your life here, my poor child--what a change! Let it not, however, be worse than it need be. So far as this poor place will permit, be your own mistress--live in your own fashion--keep your own hours--come to me only when you like, never from any sense of duty. I am too inured to solitude to want companionship, though I can be grateful when it is offered me. I have a few books--some of them may interest you; my pursuits, too--what once were my pursuits!” said he, with a sigh, “might amuse you. At all events,” added he, rising, “try--try if you can bear it; it need not be your prison if you cannot!” He again kissed her forehead, and, motioning a good-by with his hand, moved slowly away. “Perhaps I shall acquit myself better than he thinks,” said she to herself. “Perhaps--who knows if I may not find some place or thing to interest me here? It is very grand ‘savagery,’ and if one wanted to test their powers of defying the world in every shape, this is the spot. What is this you have brought me to eat, Molly?” “It’s a bit of fried skate, Miss, and I’m sorry it’s no better, but the potatoes is beautiful.” “Then let me have them, and some milk. No milk--is that so?” “There’s only one cow, Miss, on the island, and she’s only milked in the evening; but St. Finbar’s Well is the finest water ever was tasted.” “To your good health, then, and St. Finbar’s!” said she, lifting a goblet to her lips. “You are right, Molly; it is ice-cold and delicious!” And now, as she began her meal, she went on inquiring which of the men about the place would be most likely as a gardener, what things could be got to grow, on which side came the worst winds, and where any shelter could be found. “Perhaps I shall have to take to fishing, Molly,” said she, laughing, “for something I must do.” “You could make the nets, anyhow, Miss,” said Molly, in admiration of the white and graceful hands, and thinking what ought to be their most congenial labour. “I can row a boat well, Molly,” said Kate, proudly. “Whatever you’d do, you’d do well, God bless you!” cried the other; for in that hearty delight in beauty, so natural to the Irish peasant nature, she imagined her to be perfection, and the honest creature turned, ere she left the room, to give her a look of admiration little short of rapture. CHAPTER XLVI. THE STRANGER AT THE WELL.