ntry. From that we came to talk of
my adventures, and of Tim. But I could not find it in my heart to tell
her of the paper under the hearth at Kilgorman, or of the villainy by
which her father came into the estates he now held.

Near the end of our talk I mentioned that I had seen Captain Lestrange
in Derry.

She was silent a little, and then said,--

"He is the man my father says I must marry." This was a speech I found
no ready answer to, except a mumbled, "He is a fortunate man."

"He does not think so," said Miss Kit with a laugh. "He is good and
kind, but he loves his liberty more than any woman."

"And what says my little lady to that?" I faltered.

"_Vive la Liberte_," said she. "Heigho, Barry, are we nearly there?"

We were past Delft, where no one supposed but we were a belated pair of
market folk trudging home. Our horse had dropped into a leisurely jog,
and the morning sky was beginning to show streaks of grey.

"Are you weary?" said I, putting my hand on the little arm that held me
round.

"No, Barry, I am very happy so," said she; and after that we were silent
till the stars began to fade and the towers and spires of the Hague
loomed ahead against the northern sky.

Despite our loitering, it was still early when we found ourselves in the
streets of that city, inquiring for the _auberge_ of the "White Angel."
After some trouble, we were directed through the town to the road that
leads to the little fishing village of Scheveningen, two miles beyond
the Hague, where, just as we came in sight of the sea, a little wayside
inn with a swinging sign of a heavenly body in a snowy robe told us we
had at last found our journey's end.

No one was astir, but our knocking brought a groom on the scene, who
rather surlily admitted us to the stable-yard.

"Tell madame she is wanted at once; I bear a message from Lord Edward,
tell her."

Here a head looked out from a window, and madame's voice called out in
broadest brogue,--

"Lord Edward, is it? And who might you be yourself?"

"I'm Barry Gallagher, Biddy. Put on your clothes, like a decent soul,
and let us in."

Biddy obeyed with an alacrity which led us to doubt whether her toilet
below the shawl she wore had been very elaborate.

On the sight of me, still more of my fair charge, she broke out into a
tumult of Irish welcome.

"Arrah, darlints, sure it's glad I am to see you; and it's expecting you
I've been, for didn't Lord Edward send me