“I’ll marry no one; laste of all an O’Daly,” she said, firmly. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she decided upon a further explanation. “I’m goin’ to take me vows at the convint within the month,” she added.
Bernard stared open-eyed at her.
“I-gad!” was all he said.
The girl’s face lightened at the sound of this exclamation, bringing back as it did a flood of welcome memories.
“I know you by that word for a true O’Mahony,—‘an American O’Mahoney,” she said, with eager pleasure beaming in her deep-gray eyes. She turned to her retainer: “You remimber that same word, John Pat. Who was it used always to be saying ‘I-gad?’”
John Pat searched the landscape with a vacuous glance.
“W’u’d it be Father Harrington?” he asked.
“Huh!” sniffed Kate, in light contempt, and turned again to the young engineer, with a backward nod toward John Pat. “He’s an honest lad,” she said, apologetically, “but the Lord only knows what’s inside of his head. Ah, sir, there was an O’Mahony here—‘tis twelve years now since he sailed away; ah, the longest day Muirisc stands she ’ll not see such another man—bold and fine, wid a heart in him like a lion, and yit soft and tinder to thim he liked, and a janius for war and commence and government that made Muirisc blossom like a rose. Ah, a grand man was our O’Mahony!”
“So you live at Muirisc, eh?” asked the practical Bernard.
“’T was him used always to say ‘I-gad!’ whin things took him by surprise,” remarked Kate, turning to study the vast downward view attentively.