ried, and she staggered back.

Just then there was a sound of footsteps on the shingle outside, and
at the next moment Stean and Thurstan Fairbrother and old Davy
Kerruish pushed open the door. They had come to fetch Greeba.

"The Methodee man tould us," said Davy, standing by Jason's side,
"and, my gough, but it's mortal cur'ous. What's it saying, 'Talk of
the divil, and sure enough it was the big widda man hisself we were
talking of, less nor a half hour afore we struck."

"Come, my lass," said Thurstan.

"No, no, I'll stay here," said Greeba.

"But your mother is fidgeting, and this is no place for a slip of a
girl--come!"

"I'll stay with him alone," said Jason.

"No, no," cried Greeba.

"It's the lad's right, for all," said old Davy. "He fetched the poor
chap out of the water. Come, let's take the road for it."

"Will no one stay instead of me?" said Greeba.

"Where's the use?" said Davy. "He's raelly past help. He's outward
bound, poor chap. Poor Orry! Poor ould Stephen!"

Then they drew Greeba away, and with a look of fear fixed on Jason's
face she passed out at the door.

Jason was now alone with Stephen Orry, and felt like a man who had
stumbled into a hidden grave. He had set out over the seas to search
for his father, and here, at his first setting foot on the land, his
father lay at his feet. So this was Stephen Orry; this was he for
whom his mother had given up all; this was he for whom she had taken
a father's curse; this was he for whom she had endured poverty and
shame; this was he who had neglected her, struck her, forgotten her
with another woman; this was he who had killed her--the poor, loving,
loyal, passionate heart--not in a day, or an hour, or a moment, but
in twenty long years. Jason stood over the bed and looked down.
Surely the Lord God had heard his great vow and delivered the man
into his hands. He would have hunted the world over to find him, but
here at a stride he had him. It was Heaven's own justice, and if he
held back now the curse of his dead mother would follow him from the
grave.

Yet a trembling shook his whole frame, and his heart beat as if it
would break. Why did he wait? He remembered the tenderness that had
crept upon him not many minutes ago, as he listened to the poor baby
babble of the man's delirium, and at that the gall in his throat
seemed to choke him. He hated himself for yielding to it, for now he
knew for whom it had been meant. It had been meant for