"Indeed, Emon, you have been very kind, and I'm entirely obliged to you for all your trouble; but I won't ask you to come any further now."
Kate's father just then came to the door again; and she, thinking that matters had gone far enough between Emon and her friend in her presence, bid them a final good-bye, and turned up to her father, who still stood at the door, and who really did appear to be starving, if one could judge by the position of his hands and the face he made.
The moment had now arrived when Emon must meet his fate, or call himself a coward and a poltroon for the remainder of his natural life, be it long or short.
He chose the least degrading and the most hopeful alternative—to meet his fate.
As Winny held out her hand to him, and asked him to let out the dog, he said:
"No, Winny; I'll give him up to you at the end of the lane; but not sooner."
Winny saw that remonstrance would be no use. She did not wish to quarrel with Emon, and she knew that at all events that was no time or place to do so.
They had not advanced many yards alone, when Winny stopped again, as if irresolute between her wishes and her fears. She had not yet spoken unkindly to Emon, and she had tact enough to know that the first unkind word would bring out the whole matter, which she dreaded, in a flood from his heart, and which she doubted her own power to withstand.
"Emon," she said, "indeed I will not let you come any further—don't be angry."
"Winny, you said first you would not ask me, and now you say you will not let me. Winny Cavana, are you ashamed of any one about Rathcash, or Rathcashmore, seeing you walking with Emon-a-knock?"