“Dead! When did he die?” “Where did it happen?” “How?” “Of what malady?” “Are his remains coming home?” were asked in quick succession by several voices. “This letter will tell you all that I know myself,” said she, laying it on the table. “May I venture to hope Mr. Clinch will so far oblige me? The fishermen say the sea is too rough for their craft.” “It's not exactly on the King's service, I opine, ma'am,” broke in Mrs. Clinch; “but of course he is too gallant to oppose your wishes.” “Faith! if you wanted any one with you, and would accept of myself,” broke in Bodkin, “I'm ready this minute; not that exactly salt water is my element.” “The young lady is accustomed to travel alone, or she is much belied,” said Miss Busk, with a sneer. “I suppose you'd better let her have the boat, Clinch,” said his wife, in a whisper. “There's no knowing what might come of it if you refused.” “I 'll go down and muster the crew for you, Miss Henderson,” said Clinch, not sorry to escape, although the exchange was from a warm cabin to the beating rain without. “Poor Martin!” sighed Bodkin; “he was the first of the family for many a long year that did n't breathe his last under his own roof. I 'm sure it weighed heavily on him.” “I trust his son will follow his example, nevertheless,” said the priest. “I don't want to see one of the name amongst us.” “You might have worse, Father Maher,” said Bodkin, angrily. And now a lively discussion ensued as to the merits of him they had lost, for the most part with more of charity than many of their dissertations; from this they branched off into speculations about the future. Would the “present man” reside at home? would her Ladyship come back? what would be Mary's position? how would Scanlan fare? what of Henderson, too? In fact, casualties of every kind were debated, and difficulties started, that they might be as readily reconciled. Meanwhile Kate was hastening down to the shore, followed, rather than escorted, by little Clinch, who even in the darkness felt that the conjugal eye was upon him. CHAPTER XXXI. THE BRANNOCK ISLANDS A little to the northwest of the island of Innishmore are scattered a number of small islets, some scarcely more than barren rocks, called the Brannocks. One of these alone was inhabited, and that by a single family. No isolation could be more complete than that of these poor people, who thus dwelt amid the wide waste of waters, never seeing the face of a stranger, and only at long intervals visiting the mainland. Indeed the only intercourse they could be said to maintain with their fellow-men was when by chance they fell in with some homeward-bound ship at sea, and sold the little produce of their nets; for they lived by fishing, and had no other subsistence.