“Such a life as this is meant to expiate great crimes. Men are sent to wild and desolate islands in the ocean, to wear out days of hopeless misery, because they have warred against their fellows. But what have I done? whom have I injured? Others had friends to love and to guide them; I had none. The very worst that can be alleged against me is, that I was rash and headstrong--too prone to resent; and what has it cost me! “My uncle said, indeed, this need not be my prison if I could not endure its privations. But what did that mean--what alternative did he point to? Was it that I was to go lower still, and fall back upon all the wretchedness I sprang from? That, never! The barren glory of calling myself a Luttrell may be a sorry price for forfeited luxury and splendour; but I have it, and I will hold it. I am a Luttrell now, and one day, perhaps, these dreary hills shall own me their mistress.” In some such thoughts as these, crossed and recrossed by regrets and half-shadowed hopes, she was returning one night to the Abbey, when Molly met her. There was such evident anxiety and eagerness in the woman’s face, that Kate quickly asked her: “What is it? What has happened?” “Nothing, Miss, nothing at all. ‘Tis only a man is come. He’s down at the Holy Well, and wants to speak to you.” “Who is he? What is he?” “I never seen him before, Miss, but he comes from beyant there”--she motioned towards the main land of Ireland--“and says that you know him well.” “Have you told my uncle of him?” “No, Miss, for the man said I was to tell no living soul but yourself, and to tell you quick too, for he was in a hurry, and wanted to get away with the evening’s tide, and his boat was more than a mile off.” “Molly Byan,” said the girl, calmly, almost sternly, “you heard the orders that my uncle gave. You heard him tell me that I was not to see, nor speak to, nor hold any intercourse with any of those belonging to my mother’s family. Is this man one of them?” “No, Miss. ‘Tis what I asked him. ‘Tis the very first question I put to him. And he said, ‘I’m no more to them than you are, Mrs. Ryan,’ says he; ‘and what’s more,’ says he, ‘if it’s any comfort to you to know it, I don’t even come from this part of Ireland; so you may make yourself easy about that,’ says he. I was puttin’ more questions to him, and he stopped me, and said, ‘You’re just wasting precious time,’ says he, ‘and if she comes back and finds it too late’--‘she meant yourself Miss--’ she won’t forgive you in a hurry for what you’ve done, for I can’t come here again.’” “You are sure and certain that he was not one of those I spoke of?” “I know them all well, Miss--barrin’ the three that was transported--and he’s not any of them I ever saw before.” “But he might exactly be one of those who _was_ transported, and certainly if I knew that I’d not see him.”