Jerry followed her—pleading insistently:
"Wait! Please wait!" She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at him.
"Give us one month's trial—one month!" he urged. "It will be very little, out of your life and I promise you your father will not suffer through it except in losing you for that one little month. Will you? Just a month?"
He spoke so earnestly and seemed so sincerely pained and so really concerned at-her going, that she came down a few steps and looked at him irresolutely:
"Why do you want me to stay?" she asked him.
"Because—because your late uncle was my friend. It was his last wish to do something for you. Will you? Just a month?"
She struggled, with the desire to go away from all that was so foreign and distasteful to her. Then she looked at Jerry and realised, with something akin to a feeling of pleasure, that he was pleading with her to stay, and doing it in such a way as to suggest that it mattered to him. She had to admit to herself that she rather liked the look of him. He seemed honest, and even though he were English he did show an interest whenever she spoke of her father and he had promised to try and learn something about Ireland. That certainly was in his favour—just as the fact that he could laugh was, too. Quickly the thoughts ran hot-foot through Peg's brain: After all to run away now would look cowardly. Her father would be ashamed of her. This stuck-up family would laugh at her. That thought was too much. The very suggestion of Alaric laughing at her caused a sudden rush of blood to her head. Her temples throbbed. Instantly she made up her mind.
She would stay. Turning to Jerry, she said: "All right, then. I'll stay—a month. But not any more than a month, though!"
"Not unless you wish it."
"I won't wish it—I promise ye that. One month'll be enough in this house. It's goin' to seem like a life-time."