"That will be the first duck, Winny."
"How is that, father?'
"Why, it's well beyant the six hundred, Winny, which was all you were goin' upon at first; but you may now begin with whatever we get by the sale of Rathcash."
"Well, father, I would only wish to suggest the distribution of that, for you know I have no call to it, and God grant that it may be a long day until I have."
"Faix, an' Winny, af that be so, you've left yourself bare enough. But don't be talkin' nonsense, child. What would I want with it? Won't [{260}] you take care iv me, Winny asthore? an' won't you want the most iv it where you are agoin? an' didn't you tell me already that you'd like me to let you give it to the charities of that religious establishment? Shure, there's no use in my askin' you any more not to go into it."
"None indeed, father, for I am resolved upon it. But you shall live in the town with me, and I can take care of you the same as if I was in the house with you. There shall be nothing that you can want or wish for that you shall not have, and no day that it is possible that I will not see you."
"What more had I here, Winny, except the crops coming round from the seed to the harvest, an' the cattle, an' the grass, an' the birds in the bushes? Dear, oh dear, yes! Hadn't I yourself, Winny asthore, forenent me at breakust, dinner, an' supper; an' warn't you for ever talkin' to me of an evenin', with your stitchin' or your knittin' across your lap; an', Winny jewel, wasn't your light song curling through the yard, an' the house, afore I was up in the mornin'? But now--now--Winny--oh, Winny asthore, mavourneen macree! but your poor old father will miss yourself, no matther how kind your plans may be for his comfort. Shure, the very knowledge that you were asleep in the house with me was a blessin'."
"Father," she said, "God bless you! I will be back with you in a few minutes--do not fret;" and she left him, and shut herself up in her room.
But he did fret; and he was no sooner alone than the big tears burst uncontrollably forth into a pocket-handkerchief, which he continued to sop against his face.
Winny had thrown herself upon her knees at the bedside, and prayed to God to guide her. Her thoughts and prayers were too dignified and holy for tears. But they had made a free course to the pinnacle of the mercy-seat, and she rose with her soul refreshed by the glory which had responded to her cry for guidance.