x cloth and potatoes, a few cattle and a drove of sheep. At the
flow of the tide it was to go out into the bay and anchor there,
waiting for the mails, and at nine o'clock it was to sail. In the
meantime Michael was to arrange for his passage, and at half-past
eight he was to meet his father on the quay.

But he had also to see Greeba, and that was not easy to do. The
family at Lague had heard the great news of his going, and had
secretly rejoiced at it, but they refused to see him there, even for
the shortest leave-taking at the longest parting. And at the bare
mention of the bargain that Greeba had made with him, to bid him
farewell on the eve of his departure, all the Fairbrothers were up in
arms. So he had been sorely put to it to devise a means of meeting
Greeba, if he could do so without drawing suspicion down on her; for
come what might of risk or danger to himself he meant to see her
again before ever he set foot on the ship. The expedient he could not
hit on did not long elude a woman's wit, and Greeba found the way by
which they were to meet.

A few of last year's heifers were grazing on Barrule and at nightfall
somebody went up for them and brought them home. She would go that
night, and return by the glen, so that at the bridge by the turn of
the river and the low road to Lague, where it was quiet enough
sometimes, she could meet anybody about dusk and nobody be the wiser.
She contrived a means to tell Michael of this, and he was prompt to
her appointment.

The day had been fair but close, with a sky that hung low, and with
not a breath of wind, and in the evening when the mist came down from
the mountain a fog came up from the sea, so that the air was empty
and every noise went through it as if it had been a speaking-trumpet.
Standing alone on the bridge under the quiet elms, Michael could
hear the rattle of chains and the whistling of horns, and by that he
knew that the brig had dropped anchor in the bay. But he strained his
ears for other sounds, and they came at last; the thud of the many
feet of the heifers, the flapping of their tails, the cattle-call in
a girl's clear voice, and the swish of a twig that she carried in her
hand.

Greeba came along behind the cattle, swinging her body to a jaunty
gait, her whole person radiant with health and happiness, her long
gown, close at the back and loose over her bosom, showing well her
tall lithe form and firm bearing. She wore no bonnet, but a white
silk