"An' 'tis a millonaire they tells me the child is goin' to marry?" she asked in one of her tentative, round-about questions. "Glory be to God! an' she only out of the school!"
Clodagh glanced through the window at the golden evening sky.
"You married me before I had been to school, Hannah," she said, below her breath.
The old shrewd light gleamed in Hannah's eyes. She moved awkwardly and yet softly round the tea-table, and laid her broad hand on Clodagh's shoulder.
"Many's the day I do be ponderin' on that match, Miss Clodagh," she said earnestly. "The ways of God are dark; and what I done, I done for the best."
Clodagh, touched by the deep solicitude of the voice, put her own smooth hand over the old rough one.
"I'm sure God did everything as it should be done, Hannah,—because it—it has all come right in the end."
Hannah's hand dropped from her shoulder in sudden excitement.
"Miss Clodagh!" she said breathlessly—"Miss Clodagh, is it a husband you'll be thinkin' to take?"
Again Clodagh's gaze wandered across the sky, melting now from gold to orange.