The old man, however, motioned away the gift with one hand, while he drew the other across his eyes.
“Is there anything you think of now, Kitty,” said he, with an effort to appear calm, “for I must be goin’?”
“Give my love to them all beyant,” said she, gravely, “and say if there’s a thing I could do for them, I’ll do it, but don’t let them be comin’ after me!”
A sickly paleness spread over the old man’s face, and his lips trembled as he muttered, “No fear of that! They’ll not trouble you! Good-by!” And he stooped and kissed her.
When he had walked a few paces away, he turned, and, with hands fervently clasped above his head, uttered a blessing in Irish.
“God speed you, grandfather, and send you safe home!” cried she. And, skipping over a flower-bed, was lost to his view, though he could hear her happy voice as she went away singing.
“The devil a doubt of it,” muttered the old man, “them’s the ones that bate the world; and, if she doesn’t come in first in the race, by my soule, it isn’t the weight of her heart will keep her back!”
“Well, Malone!” cried Sir Gervais, as they met at the garden-gate, “have you been able to make up your mind?”
“Yes, your honour; Kitty says she’ll stay.” Sir Gervais paused for a moment, then said:
“Because we have been talking the matter over amongst ourselves, Malone, and we have thought that, as possibly your expectations might be greater than were likely to be realised, our best way might be to make you some compensation for all the trouble we have given you, and part the same good friends that we met. I therefore came to say, that if you like your present holding, that little farm——”