“How do you know all that?”
“Because the windows, as ye see, are big, and I was working round the flower-beds. And sure, didn’t all the world know ye were baptised that day; her ladyship, your mother, wished it. I saw ye; we all did, for his lordship was the proud man. Ye were wrapped up in a white shawl, and had a head on you as red as a carrot, and a screech out of ye like a peacock. More betoken, there was a peacock sitting on the roof; it came over from Lord Warner’s place. When I saw it, the heart crossed in me, for them’s, as ye know, the unlucky birds. Sure enough that night her ladyship took bad. Oh, it would have made a great differ to you, aye and to every one, if she had lived; and by all accounts she found it terribly hard to go and leave ye all.”
“Who told you?” inquired the girl under her breath.
“Oh, I heard it. When she knew she had but a couple of hours to spare, she sent for his lordship and talked, talked, talked, striving her best to comfort him, and telling him to be brave, with her very last breath. Oh, ’twas she had a spirit, and when she went it made small differ to her—sure, she was always an angel.”
“She was buried over in England?”
“Yes, and with Katty Foley’s three-months baby lying alongside of her.”
“Well, I’m glad I’ve come here, Mike, and seen this place and had a talk with you—you who found it all out. Somehow it makes things seem more real. But I’ll never get used to it—never; and that’s as true as I am standing here.”
“Oh, yes, ye will; only take your time. When you get fine dresses, and learn talk and manners, it will be as easy to you as eating your dinner.”
“But sure, I’ve no talk, and no manners, Mike.”