Both had been standing; but her lover, taking her hand, sat down, as she also did; he then turned around and pressed her to his heart; and their tears in this melancholy embrace of love and sorrow both literally mingled together.
“I would be ungrateful to God, my beloved Mave,” he replied, “and unworthy of you—and, indeed, at best I'm not worthy of you—if I didn't take hope an' courage, when I know that sich a girl Joves me; as it is, I feel my heart aisier, an' my spirits lighter; although, at the same time, dear Mave, I'm very wake, and far from being well.”
“That's bekaise this disturbance of your mind is too much for you yet—but keep your spirits up; you don't know,” she continued, smiling sweetly through her tears; “what a delightful prophecy was fulfilled for us this day—ay, awhile ago, even when I met you.”
“No,” he replied, “what was it?” She then detailed the particulars of Donnel Dhu's prediction, which she dwelt upon with a very cheerful spirit, after which she added:
“And now, Con dear, don't you think that's a sign we'll be yet happy?”
Dalton, who placed no reliance whatever on Donnel Dhu's impostures, still felt reluctant to destroy the hope occasioned by such an agreeable illusion. “Well,” he replied, “although I don't much believe in anything that ould scoundrel says; I trust, for all that, that he has tould you truth for wanst.”
“But how did you happen to come here, Con?” she asked; “to be here at the very minute, too?”
“Why,” said he, “I was desired to be the first to meet you after you passed the Grey Stone—the very one we're sittin' on—if I loved you, an' wished to sarve you.”
“But who on earth could tell you this?” she asked; “bekaise I thought no livin' bein' knew of it but myself and Donnel Dhu.”
“It was Sarah, his daughter,” said Dalton; “but when I asked her why I should come to do so, she wouldn't tell me—she said if I wished to save you from evil, or at any rate from trouble. That's a strange girl—his daughter,” he added; “she makes one do whatever she likes.”