The sobs of Susan were loud and incessant, even before she had concluded the words; their eyes were fixed upon each other with a hopeless and agonizing expression: but no sooner were they uttered, than a strong hysteric sense of suffocation rose to her throat; she panted rapidly for breath; Denis opened his arms, and she fell, or rather threw herself, over in a swoon upon his bosom. To press his lips to hers, and carry her to the brink of the well, was but the work of a moment. There he laid her, and after having sprinkled her face with water, proceeded to slap the palms of her hands, exclaiming,—
“Susan, my beloved, will you not hear me? Oh, look upon me, my heart's dearest treasure, and tell me that you're living. Gracious God! her heart is broken—she is dead! This—this—is the severest blow of all! I have killed her!”
She opened her eyes as he spoke, and Denis, in stooping to assist her, weeping at the same time like a child; received—a bang from a cudgel that made his head ring.
“Your sowl to the divil, you larned vagabone,” said her father, for it was he, “is this the way you're preparin' yourself for the church? Comin' over that innocent colleen of a daughter o' mine before you set out,” he added, taking Denis a second thwack across the shoulders—“before you set out for Maynewth!!”
“Why, you miserable vulgarian,” said Denis, “I scorn you from the head to the heel. Desist, I say,” for the father was about to lay in another swinger upon his kidney—“desist, I say, and don't approximate, or I will entangle the ribs of you!”
“My sowl to glory,” said the father, “if ever I had a greater mind to ate my dinner, than I have to anoint you wid this cudgel, you black-coated skamer!”
“Get out, you barbarian,” replied Denis, “how dare you talk about unction in connection with a cudgel? Desist, I say, for I will retaliate, if you approximate an inch. Desist, or I will baptize you in the well as Philip did the Ethiopian, without a sponsor. No man but a miserable barbarian would have had the vulgarity to interrupt us in the manner you did. Look at your daughter's situation!”
“The hussy,” replied the father, “it's the supper she ought to have ready, instead of coortin' wid sich a larned vag——Heavens above me! What ails my child? Susy! Susy, alanna dhas! what's over you? Oh, I see how it is,” he continued—“I see how it is! This accounts for her low spirits an' bad health for some time past! Susy, rouse yourself, avourneen! Sure I'm not angry wid you! My sowl to glory, Denis Shaughnessy, but you have broke my child's heart, I doubt!”
“Owen,” said Denis, “your indecorous interruption has stamped you with the signature of genuine ignorance and vulgarity; still, I say, we must have some conversation on that subject immediately. Yes, I love your daughter a thousand times better than nay own life.”
“Faith, I'll take care that we'll have discoorse about it,” replied the father. “If you have been a villain to the innocent girl—if you have, Denny, why you'll meet your God sooner than you think. Mark my words. I have but one life, and I'll lose it for her sake, if she has come to ill.”