Niall muttered some exclamation in Irish, the meaning of which I did not know; then he turned upon me with a beaming smile.
"You are as the dawn that heralds a bright day, as the sun that peeps from out a dark cloud, as a flower thrusting its head through the snow!"
I sat watching the schoolmaster with real gratification at the pleasure I had given him. Then he asked:
"He never spoke to you of Winifred?"
"Never."
"Nor of Wicklow?"
"Nor of Wicklow."
"He has forgotten Ireland!" cried the old man bitterly. "He has become Americanized, as they all do."
"On the contrary," I observed. "I heard him speak once of Ireland, and in a way I shall never forget."
He looked at me with sudden keenness, even suspicion; and I smiled.