And he related the history of his youth.

“He must be an unfeeling baste, to treat you like that,” Mike exclaimed indignantly.  “Sure I know the name, and have heard him spoken of as a traitor who had gone over to the enemy, and turned Protestant to save his estate.”

“That is how you would hear him spoken of, Mike, for it is true; but as to his treatment of me, it all depends whether I was forced upon him by threats, or was taken by him out of friendship to my father.  If it were the first of these reasons, he cannot be blamed for keeping me at a distance.  If the second, he certainly ought to have behaved differently.  But neither explains why he, a supporter of the usurper, should have sent me out to France to fight against the English.  It is a hard nut to crack.”

Mike agreed.  “Mighty hard; but your honour will get to the bottom of it, never fear.  And why are we going to the duke, master?”

“To get leave of absence.  I cannot disappear suddenly, without asking for leave.  I shall, of course, tell the Duke of Berwick exactly why I am going, and I feel sure he will grant my request, without hesitation.  There is no fighting to be done, just at present, and even if there were, one officer more or less would make no difference.

“Have you any relations in Ireland, Mike?”

“None that I know of, sir, barring a sister, who was twelve years older than myself; and it is little I saw of her, for she married when I was a bit of a gossoon.  Her husband was killed in the siege of Limerick, and I heard that after it was over, she went to settle with some cousins in Cork.  Whether she is there now, is married again, or is dead years ago, is more than I can say, seeing that I have never heard of her since.”

“Was she with her husband in the siege of Limerick?”

“She was that.  I heard about her from some men who knew her husband.  They said, after he was killed, she went as a servant in the family of an officer and his wife for a bit, but the officer was killed, and the lady died of grief and trouble; and it was hard work she had to live till the place surrendered.  That is all I know about it, your honour.  It might have been true, and it might not.  I was but a boy, and maybe I bothered the man with questions, and he just told me what came into his head to keep me quiet.”

“Well, at any rate, Mike, as we shall most likely land at Cork, you might try to find your sister out.  If she went through the siege, she will know the names of many of the officers.  She may have heard of a Kennedy.”

“Maybe of half a dozen, your honour.  As loyal gentlemen, they would be sure to be there.”

“What was her name, Mike?”

“Sure it was the same as my own before she married, just Norah Callaghan.”

“So I suppose, Mike,” Desmond said with a laugh; “but what was the name of the husband?”

“Rooney.  I have not thought of it this many a year, but it is sure I am that it was Rooney; and now I think of it, a message came to me from her, just before I left the country, saying that should I ever be in the neighbourhood, it is glad she would be to see me; and I was to ask for Mrs. Rooney, who lived with her cousin, Larry Callaghan, a ship’s carpenter, in Middle Lane, which I should find by the river bank.”