"I know that," says the man, sullenly. "But what of him?" pointing to Rodney, the ruffianly look still on his face. "The Englishman, I mane. Is he sure? It's a life, for a life afther all, when everything is towld."
He handles the gun again menacingly. Mona, though still apparently calm, whitens perceptibly beneath the cold penetrating rays of the "pale-faced moon" that up above in "heaven's ebon vault, studded with stars unutterably bright," looks down upon her perhaps with love and pity.
"Tim," she says, "what have I ever done to you that you should seek to make me unhappy?"
"I have nothing to do with you. Go your ways. It is with him I have to settle," says the man, morosely.
"But I have to do with him," says Mona, distinctly.
At this, in spite of everything, Rodney laughs lightly, and, taking her hand in his, draws it through his arm. There is love and trust and great content in his laugh.
"Eh!" says Ryan; while the other man whom she has called Carthy—and who up to this has appeared desirous of concealing himself from view—now presses forward and regards the two with lingering scrutiny.
"Why, what have you to do with her?" says Ryan, addressing Rodney, a gleam of something that savors of amusement showing itself even in his ill-favored face. For an Irishman, under all circumstances, dearly loves "a courting, a bon-mot, and a broil."
"This much," says Rodney, laughing again: "I am going to marry her, with her leave."
"If that be so, she'll make you keep from splittin' on us," says the man. "So now go; we've work in hand to-night not fit for her eyes."