said the woman; "but she likes not the presence of
strangers. Get thee out to her, Martin, and persuade her to come in."

The man was absent for a short time. When he entered, his face
displayed as much astonishment as it was possible to cram into a
countenance so vacant.

"She says our lives were just now in danger; and that the child's
enemies are again in search; but she has put them on the wrong scent.
We must not tarry here any longer; we must remove, and that speedily.
But she would fain be told what is your business in these parts, if ye
are so disposed."

"Why truly," said Harrington, "our names and occupation need little
secrecy. We are idlers at present, and having kindred in the
neighbourhood, are on our way to the Irelands at Lydiate, as we before
told thee. Verily, there is but little of either favour or profit to
be had about court now-a-days. Nought better than to loiter in hall
and bower, and fling our swords in a lady's lap. But why does the
woman ask? Hath she some warning to us? or is there already a spy upon
our track?"

"I know not," said Martin; "but she seems mightily afeard o' the
child."

"If she will entrust the babe to our care," said Harrington, after a
long pause, "I will protect it. The shield of the Harringtons shall be
its safeguard."

The fisherman went out with this message; and on his return it was
agreed that, as greater safety would be the result, the child should
immediately be given to Harrington. A solemn pledge was required by
the unseen visitant that the trust should be surrendered whenever, and
by whomsoever, demanded; likewise a vow of inviolable secrecy was
exacted from the parties that were present. Harrington drew a signet
from his finger; whoever returned it was to receive back the child. He
saw not the mysterious being to whom it was sent; but the idea of the
Meer-woman, the lake, and the untold mysteries beneath its quiet
bosom, came vividly and painfully on his recollection.

Long after she had departed, the strange events of the evening kept
them awake. Inquiries were now answered without hesitation. Harrington
learned that the "Meer-woman's" first appearance was on a cold wintry
day, a few months before. She did not crave protection from the
dwellers in the hut, but seemed rather to command it. Leaving the
infant with them, and promising to return shortly, she seemed to
vanish upon the lake, or rather, she seemed to glide away on its
surface so swiftly that