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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Are you hurted?" demanded the whitish man, who held him fast, and repeated the question in Irish; but the child only kept blubbering and crying for mercy, with his hands clasped, and trying to drop on his knees. Larry's strong old hand held him up. He was hurt, and bleeding from over his eye. "Just a trifle hurted, my lady!" "Bring him up here." Shaeen Mull Ryan gave himself over.
The elder, with a grave and affectionate smile, said, looking on the fairy "Brave, dear, wild Una! nothing can ever quell your gaiety of heart." And Una kissed her merrily on the cheek. So the oak door of the room again opened, and Shaeen, with his conductor, descended the stair.
Little Shaeen Mull Ryan, the last of the panic rout, screaming to his mates to wait for him saw a whitish figure emerge from the thicket at the base of the stone flight of steps that descended the side of the glen, close by the castle-wall, intercepting his flight, and a discordant male voice shrieked "I have you!"
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