"What did she—"
"Poor little thing!—she could not believe it at first, and then, then it was very sad. She seemed to feel so much about Frankie having given her Royal; it made it worse for her. She has cried herself to sleep again now. I went in to look at her before we came out."
"I think I'll go to bed," he said in a choked voice.
"Good night, dear!" and she held him tight in her arms for a moment as she kissed him.
Her tenderness brought back all the soft natural grief for his cousin, and he cried himself to sleep with his mind full of thoughts of Frankie's dear loving ways.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Next morning poor Royal was buried.
With many tears he was taken across the river and laid in his last resting-place. The sobs that escaped from Winnie as the earth was thrown in upon him shook Murtagh's heart and stirred up again his bitter indignation against Mr. Plunkett, but he stood silent beside her till the last shovelful of earth was patted down into its place. Good-natured Hickey had begged a rose-tree from Bland, which he planted for them at the head of the grave; then he took his tools and trudged away, telling them not to fret. Bobbo called Rosie to see the desolation of the hut, and Winnie and Murtagh were left standing by the grave alone.
"Don't stay here, Win," said Murtagh, putting his arm round her neck. "It will make you so dreadfully miserable. Come away into the wood, and let us be together. And look here, Win," he added, the indignation breaking out at last. "There's one thing, you'll be well paid out. He's going to get what he deserves at last."