But one day as he was walking home, Stephen Kennedy overtook him, and saying he was going in his direction, walked alongside of him--to the pleasure of Donal, who loved all humanity, and especially the portion of it acquainted with hard work.

He was a middle-sized young fellow, with a slouching walk, but a well shaped and well set head, and a not uncomely countenance.

He was brown as sun and salt sea-winds could make him, and had very blue eyes and dark hair, telling of Norwegian ancestry.

He lounged along with his hands in his pockets, as if he did not care to walk, yet got over the ground as fast as Donal, who, with yet some remnant of the peasant's stride, covered the ground as if he meant walking.

After their greeting a great and enduring silence fell, which lasted till the journey was half-way over; then all at once the fisherman spoke.
"There's a lass at the castel, sir," he said, "they ca' Eppy Comin." "There is," answered Donal.
"Do ye ken the lass, sir--to speak til her, I mean ?" "Surely," replied Donal.