Andy, “knocked all of a heap,” stood in the middle of the road, looking after Dick as he cantered down the slope. It was seldom poor Andy was angry—but he felt a strong sense of indignation choking him as Dick's parting words still rung in his ears. “What does he mane?” said Andy, talking aloud; “what does he mane?” he repeated, anxious to doubt and therefore question the obvious construction which Dick's words bore. “Misther Dick is fond of a joke, and maybe this is one of his making; but if it is, 't is not a fair one, 'pon my sowl: a poor man has his feelin's as well as a rich man. How would you like your own wife to be spoke of that way, Misther Dick, as proud as you ride your horse there—humph?”
Andy, in great indignation, pursued his way towards his mother's cabin to ask her blessing upon his marriage. On his presenting himself there, both the old woman and Oonah were in great delight at witnessing his safe return; Oonah particularly, for she, feeling that it was for her sake Andy placed himself in danger, had been in a state of great anxiety for the result of the adventure, and, on seeing him, absolutely threw herself into his arms, and embraced him tenderly, impressing many a hearty kiss upon his lips, between whiles that she vowed she would never forget his generosity and courage, and ending with saying there was nothing she would not do for him.
Now Andy was flesh and blood like other people, and as the showers of kisses from Oonah's ripe lips fell fast upon him he was not insensible to the embrace of so very pretty a girl—a girl, moreover, he had always had a “sneaking kindness” for, which Oonah's distance of manner alone had hitherto made him keep to himself; but now, when he saw her eyes beam gratitude, and her cheek flush, after her strong demonstration of regard, and heard her last words, so very like a hint to a shy man, it must be owned a sudden pang shot through poor Andy's heart, and he sickened at the thought of being married, which placed the tempting prize before him hopelessly beyond his reach.
He looked so blank, and seemed so unable to return Oonah's fond greeting, that she felt the pique which every pretty woman experiences who fancies her favours disregarded, and thought Andy the stupidest lout she ever came across. Turning up her hair, which had fallen down in the excess of her friendship, she walked out of the cottage, and, biting her disdainful lip, fairly cried for spite.
In the meantime, Andy popped down on his knees before the widow, and said, “Give me your blessing, mother!”
“For what, you omadhawn?” said his mother, fiercely; for her woman's nature took part with Oonah's feelings, which she quite comprehended, and she was vexed with what she thought Andy's disgusting insensibility. “For what should I give you my blessing?”
“Bekase I'm marri'd, ma'am.”
“What!” exclaimed the mother. “It's not marri'd again you are? You're jokin' sure.”
“Faix, it's no joke,” said Andy, sadly, “I'm marri'd sure enough; so give us your blessin', anyhow,” cried he, still kneeling.
“And who did you dar'' for to marry, sir, if I make so bowld to ax, without my lave or license?”