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He did not speak for some time,
but at length said:
"Bridget, give me a drink."
His wife took a wooden noggin, which she dipped into a churn and handed
him. Having finished it at a draught, he wiped his mouth with his
gathered, palm, breathed deeply, but was still silent.
"Torley, did you hear me? What news of that unfortunate boy?"
"No news, Bridget, at least no good news; the boy's an outlaw, and will
be an outlaw--or rather he won't be an outlaw long; they'll get him
soon."
"But why would they get him? hasn't he sense enough to keep from them?"
"That's just what he has not, Bridget; he has left the mountains and
come down somewhere to the Infield country; but where, I cannot make
out."
"Well, asthore, he'll only bring on his own punishment. Troth, I'm not a
bit sorry that Granua missed him. I never was to say, for the match,
but you should have your way, and force the girl there to it, over and
above. Of what use is his land and wealth to him now?"
"God's will be done," replied her husband, sorrowfully. "As for me, I
can do no more in it, nor I won't.


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