This long, long day--for so without any weariness she felt it--was now in the afternoon, and already long shadows of these turf-mounds stretched their giant limbs across the waste. Nina, who had eaten nothing since early morning, felt faint and hungry. She halted her pony, and taking out some bread and a bottle of milk, proceeded to make a frugal luncheon. The complete loneliness, the perfect silence, in which even the rattling of the harness as the pony shook himself made itself felt, gave something of solemnity to the moment, as the young girl sat there and gazed half terrified around her.
As she looked, she thought she saw something pass from one turf-clamp to the other, and, watching closely, she could distinctly detect a figure crouching near the ground, and, after some minutes, emerging into the open space, again to be hidden by some vast turf-mound. There, now--there could not be a doubt--it was a man, and he was waving his handkerchief as a signal. It was Donogan himself--she could recognise him well. Clearing the long drains at a bound, and with a speed that vouched for perfect training, he came rapidly forward, and, leaping the wide trench, alighted at last on the road beside her.
‘I have watched you for an hour, and but for this lucky halt, I should not have overtaken you after all,’ cried he, as he wiped his brow and stood panting beside her.
‘Do you know that they are in pursuit of you?’ cried she hastily.
‘I know it all. I learned it before I reached the village, and in time--only in time--to make a circuit and reach the bog. Once there, I defy the best of them.’
‘They have what they call a warrant to search for you.’
‘I know that too,’ cried he. ‘No, no!’ said he passionately, as she offered him a drink, ‘let me have it from the cup you have drank from. It may be the last favour I shall ever ask you--don’t refuse me this!’
She touched the glass slightly with her lips, and handed it to him with a smile.
‘What peril would I not brave for this!’ cried he, with a wild ecstasy.
‘Can you not venture to return with me?’ said she, in some confusion, for the bold gleam of his gaze now half abashed her.
‘No. That would be to compromise others as well as myself. I must gain Dublin how I can. There I shall be safe against all pursuit. I have come back for nothing but disappointment,’ added he sorrowfully. ‘This country is not ready to rise--they are too many-minded for a common effort. The men like Wolfe Tone are not to be found amongst us now, and to win freedom you must dare the felony.’