a good haul for my pains."

"I see, boy, an' sure I'm glad of it," said the first speaker; "but you
are scarcely strong enough to go off alone, for should a gale spring up
you would be unable to manage that boat by yourself."

"Och! an' haven't I managed her before now in heavy weather?" replied
Dermot. "But suppose, Uncle Shane, I was lost, would you take care of
my mother? She's not so strong as she used to be; toil has worn her
down, working hard for me when I ought to have been toiling for her."

"I will," answered Shane.

"Will you swear it, uncle, by the Holy Virgin and the blessed saints?"

"I will, Dermot, as I hope for mercy in the day of trouble. But why do
you ask that question?"

"Because, uncle, as I was pulling up my nets I slipped and almost fell
overboard. I thought that had my feet been entangled, as they might
have been, I should have gone down an' been unable to regain the boat.
We none of us know what may happen: but could I feel that my mother
would be protected from want, it would nerve my arm, and make me feel
more ready for whatever lot may be in store for me."

"Boy," observed the elder fisherman, looking at his nephew, "you are
thoughtful above your years; but the saints will protect you, and I will
not forget to make an offering to Saint Nicholas, that he may watch over
you."

Thus conversing the old man and the lad steered their boats towards the
shore side by side, the former hauling in his mainsail somewhat to
lessen the speed of his boat. They parted to the northward of the
promontory described, Dermot steering for the little cove in which stood
the solitary hut already spoken of, while his uncle continued along the
shore a little further to the north.

Dermot ran his boat between two rocks, at the end of which was a small
sandy beach, where a capstan being placed he was enabled to haul her up
out of the water. As he approached, a woman was seen descending from
the hut. The same dark eyes and raven hair, though somewhat streaked
with white in her case, which characterised the boy, was observable in
the woman. Her figure was thin and wiry, giving indication of the
severe toil to which she was exposed. She was dressed in a rough frieze
petticoat, with a dark handkerchief drawn across her bosom, and the
usual red cloak and hood worn at that time by most of the peasantry of
the west of Ireland was thrown over her shoulders.

"Mother!" exclaimed the boy, "see, I have done we