“Why—ahem—n—no—oh, no—not now—fond of him she was, no doubt; an' you know it's never hard to light a half-burned turf, or a candle that was lit before. If they could be got out of the counthry, at all events—these Daltons—it would be so much out of your way, for between, you an' me, I can tell you that your life won't be safe when he comes to know that you have put his nose out of joint with the Gra Gal.”
“It is strange, however, that she should change so soon!”
“Ah, Master Richard! how little you know of woman, when you say so. They're a vain, uncertain, selfish crew—women are—there's no honesty in them, nor I don't think there's a woman alive that could be trusted, if you only give her temptation and opportunity; none of them will stand that.”
“But how do you account for the change in her case, I ask?”
“I'll tell you that. First and foremost, you're handsome—remarkably handsome.”
“Come, come, no nonsense, Donnel; get along, will you, ha! ha! ha!—handsome indeed! Never you mind what the world says—well!”
“Why,” replied the other, gravely, “there's no use in denyin' it, you know; it's a matther that tells for itself, an' that a poor girl with eyes in her head can judge of as a rich one—at any rate, if you're not handsome, you're greatly belied; an' every one knows that there's never smoke without fire.”
“Well, confound you!—since they'll have it so, I suppose I may as well admit it—I believe I am a handsome dog, and I have reason to know that, that——” here he shook his head and winked knowingly: “Oh, come Donnel, my boy, I can go no further on that subject—ha! ha! ha!”
“There is no dispute about it,” continued Donnel, gravely; “but still I think, that if it was not for the mention made of the dress, an' grandeur, and state that she was to come to, she'd hardly turn round as she did. Dalton, you know, is the handsomest young fellow, barring yourself, in the parish; an' troth on your account an' hers, I wish he was out of it. He'll be crossin' you—you may take my word for it—an' a dangerous enemy he'll prove—that I know.”
“Why? what do you mean?” Here the prophet, who was artfully trying to fill the heart of his companion with a spirit of jealousy against Dalton, paused for a moment, as if in deep reflection, after which he sighed heavily. “Mane!” he at length replied; “I am unhappy in my mind, an' I know I ought to do it, an' yet I'm loth now after sich a length of time. Mane, did you say, Masther Richard?”