“You must answer it on the nail,” replied her mother, “becase the messager's waitin' in the kitchen 'ithin.”
“That alters the case altogether,” returned Una, “and I'll follow you immediately.”
The good woman then withdrew, having once more enjoined the daughter to avoid delay, and not to detain the messenger.
“You must go instantly,” she said to Connor. “Oh, what would happen me if they knew that I lov—that I—” a short pause ensued, and she blushed deeply.
“Say, what you were goin' to say,” returned Connor; “Oh, say that one word, and all the misfortunes that ever happened to man, can't make me unhappy! Oh, God! an' is it possible? Say that word—Oh! say it—say it!”
“Well, then,” she continued, “if they knew that I love the son of Fardorougha Donovan, what would become of me? Now go, for fear my father may come out.”
“But when will I see you again?”
“Go,” said she anxiously; “go, you can easily see me.”
“But when?—when? say on Thursday.”
“Not so soon—not so soon,” and she cast an anxious eye towards the garden gate.