“To be sure; I'll take it with pleasure. You'll like her when you see her. She's not a bit like the rest: no pride, no stand-off,--that is, when she takes a fancy; but she is full of life and courage for anything.” “Ah, yes,--the Captain said we should get on very well together,” drawled out Merl. “Did he, though!” cried Scanlan, eagerly. Then as suddenly checking his anxiety, he added: “But what does _he_ know about Miss Mary? Surely they're as good as strangers to each other. And for the matter of that, even when he was here, they did n't take to each other,--she was always laughing at the way he rode.” “Wasn't he in the dragoons?” asked Merl, in a half-rebutting tone. “So he was; but what does that signify? Sure it's not a cavalry seat, with your head down and your elbows squared, will teach you to cross country,--at least, with Mary Martin beside you. You'll see her one of these day yourself, Mr. Merl. May I never, if you don't see her now!” cried Scanlan, suddenly, as he pointed to the road along which a horse was seen coming at speed, the rider breasting the storm fearlessly, and only crouching to the saddle as the gusts swept past. “What in the name of all that's wonderful brings her here?” cried Maurice. “She wasn't down at Kilkieran for four months.” “She'll stop at this inn here, I suppose?” said Merl who was already performing an imaginary toilet for her visit. “You may take your oath she'll not!” said Scanlan half roughly; “she 'd not cross the threshold of it! She 's going to some cabin or other. There she goes,--is n't that riding?” cried he, in animation. “Did you ever see a horse held neater? And see how she picks the road for him! Easy as she's sitting, she 'd take a four-foot wall this minute, without stirring in her saddle.” “She hasn't got a nice day for pleasuring!” said the Jew, with a vulgar cackle. “If ye call it pleasure,” rejoined Scanlan, “what she's after; but I suspect there's somebody sick down at the end of the village. There, I 'm right; she's pulling up at Mat Landy's,--I wonder if it's old Mat is bad.” “You know him?” asked Merl. “To be sure I do. He 's known down the coast for forty miles. He saved more men from shipwreck himself than everybody in the barony put together; but his heart is all but broke about a granddaughter that ran away. Sure enough, she's going in there.” “Did you see Miss Mary?” cried Crow, entering suddenly. “She's just gone down the beach. They say there's a case now down there.” “A case--of what?” said Merl. “Cholera or typhus, as it may be,” said Crow, not a little surprised at the unmistakable terror of the other's face. “And she's gone to see it!” exclaimed the Jew. “To do more than see it. She 'll nurse the sick man, and bring him medicine and whatever he wants.” “And not afraid?”