"Oh! they've given me a month's leave of absence. I'm to be in Cashel in a month."
Even this seemed a reprieve to Feemy, who at first thought that he would have to start immediately,—perhaps that evening, a good deal might be done in a month; now, however, she regretted that she had promised to go to Mrs. M'Keon's.
"Then, Myles, you'll not leave this for a month?"
"I don't know about that; that depends on circumstances. I've to run up to Dublin, and a deal to do."
"But when do you mean to be out of this?"
"Why, I tell you, I haven't settled yet—perhaps immediately after the races."
Again they were silent for some time; Feemy longed for Ussher to say something that might sound at any rate kind; he had never met her before without an affectionate word—and now, on the eve of his departure, he stood at the fire and merely answered her questions coldly and harshly. At length she felt that this must be the time, if ever, for saying to him what she had made up her mind to say on the previous evening, when her courage failed her. So, plucking up all the heart she could, and blushing at the time to the top of her forehead, she said,
"An't I to go with you, Myles, when you go?"
Ussher still remained silent; he did not know how to answer to this question. "Come, Myles, speak to me. I know you came down to tell me your plans. What am I to do? You know you must settle now, if you're going so soon. What are your plans?"
"Why, Feemy, it's not two hours or more since I've received the letter; of course I couldn't think of everything at once. Tell me; what do you think best yourself?"