"Why how helpless you are," replied he; "can't you easily make some excuse to get home? say you are ill—and sick—and want to be at home. Or if it must come to that, say you will go home; who's to stop you?"
"But I wouldn't like to quarrel with them, Myles; just now, too, when they've been so kind to me."
"Well, dearest, you needn't quarrel with them; say you're ill, and wish to be at home; but don't make difficulties, love; don't look so unhappy; you'll be as happy as the day is long, when we're once away—that is, if you still love me, Feemy. I hope, after all I'm doing for you, you'll not be sullen and cold to me because you're leaving such a hole as Ballycloran. If you don't love me, Feemy, say so, and you may stay where you are."
"Oh! Myles, how can you say such words now! you know I love you—how much I love you—else I wouldn't be leaving my home for you this way! And though Ballycloran is—"
Here the poor girl could say no more; for she was using all her energies to prevent herself from sobbing in the ball-room.
"Good G——d! you're not going to cry here; come out of the room, Feemy;" and he led her into the passage, where, under the pretence of looking at the moon, they could turn their faces to the window. "What are you crying for now?"
"Don't you know I love you? why else would I be going with you?"
"Well, don't cry then; but mind, I shan't see you again before the time, for I'm going out of this at once now. I shall be at the avenue at a quarter before eight; don't keep me waiting. If you are there first, as you will be, walk a few steps along the Mohill road, so as to meet me; no one will know you, if you should meet any one, for it will be nearly if not quite dark; the moon won't rise till past ten; do you understand, Feemy?"
"Oh, yes, I understand!"
"Well, good night then, my own love, for I must be off."