style="font-size:15px;"> "Indeed, Mary, I was never married; but why shouldn't you sleep?"
"'Deed then, Miss, I don't jist know, but they do be saying that Denis is so noisy at nights, a-shoeing all the cattle over again as he shod in the day, and counting the money; and you see, av he was hammering away the blessed live-long night that way, maybe I'd be hurted."
"It's too late for you to think of that now; but he'll be quieter than that, I should think, when you're with him."
"Maybe he will, Miss; and as you say, I couldn't dacently be off it now. But thin – oh laws! – I'm thinking what will poor Pat be doing without me, and no one in it at all to bile the pratees and feed the pigs – the craturs!"
"That's nonsense, Mary – you and he was always fighting; he'll have more peace in it when you're gone."
"That's thrue for you, Miss, sartanly, and that's what breaks the heart of me intirely. Too much pace isn't good for Pat, no how; he'll never do no good, you'll see, when he comes to have so much of his own way. 'Deed then, the heart's low within me, to be laving Pat this way!" And Miss Brady put the tail of her gown into the corner of her eye.
"But Mary, you'll have to be caring more for your husband now. I suppose you love Denis McGovery, don't you? I'd never marry a man unless I loved him."
"Oh! that's in course – I do love him; why wouldn't I? for he has a nice little room all dacently furnished for any young woman to go into – besides the shop; and he never has the horses at all into the one we sleeps in, as is to be. And he's a handful of money, and can make any woman comfortable; and in course I love him – so I do. But what's the use of loving a man, if he's to be hammering away at a horseshoe all night?"
"Oh, they're making game of you – they are, Mary; depend upon it, when he's tired working all day, he'll sleep sound enough."
"Well, I s'poses he will; but now, Miss Feemy, I wonder is he a quiet sort of man? will he be fighting at all, do you think?"
"Really then, I can't tell; but even if he does, they say you can take your own part pretty well, when it's necessary."
"For the matter of that, so I can; and I don't mind a scrimmage jist now and again – sich as I and Pat have – av it's only to show I won't be put under; but they do say Denis is very sthrong. I don't think I'd ever have had him, av' I'd known afore he'd been so mortial sthrong."
"Well, that's all too late now for you to be talking of; and take my advice, Mary, don't be fighting with him at all if you can help it; for from what people say of him I think your husband, as will be, sticks mostly to his own way, and I don't think he'll let his wife interfere. But he's a hard-working man, and it'll be a great comfort to you that you'll never see your children wanting."
"Oh, the childhren, the little dears! it's of them I'm thinking. God he knows, it's chiefly along of them as makes me do it; but – oh laws! Miss, it's a dreadful thing to come over one all at once. But it's a great comfort anyway your letting Biddy come down to ready the mutton and pratees, and things; and so, Miss, as I've so much to do, you'll excuse my waiting any longer; and you and Mr. Thady and the Captain, – for I'm thinking the Masther won't be coming, – 'll not be down later than sivin, for Father John's to be in it at sivin exact."
"And who's to get the kiss, Mary?"
"Oh, Miss!"
"The Captain says he'll have a try for it anyway."
"Oh that'd be too much honor intirely, Miss. But av here isn't Father John coming up the avenue!"
And Mary hurried off into the realms under ground to secure the willing assistance of Biddy, and Father John's ponderous foot up the hall steps gave Feemy anything but a pleasant sensation. She was very fond of Father John too, but somehow, just at present she did not feel quite pleased to see him.
The doors were all open, and Father John walked into Feemy's boudoir. However, he was only Father John, and it wasn't her dress therefore that annoyed her; any dress would do for a priest.
After the common greetings were over, and Father John had asked after the family, and Feemy had surmised that it was either her father or her brother that he wished to see, the priest began his task.
"No, Feemy, my dear, it's not your father or your brother I want to see this turn, but just your own self." And Father John sat himself down by the fire. "I'm come just to have a little chat with you, and you musn't be angry with me for meddling with what, perhaps, you'll say was no business of mine."
This exordium made Feemy's heart palpitate, for she knew it must be about Captain Ussher, but she only said.
"Oh! no, Father John, I won't be angry with you."
"That's my darling, for you know it's only out of love for you and Thady that I'm speaking, and a real friend to you can't do you any harm, if after all you shouldn't take his advice."
"Oh! no, Father John, and I'm sure I'm very much obliged to you."
Father John himself hardly knew how to take the sting from the rebuke, which he was aware his mission could not but convey; and he was no less aware, that unless the dose had a little sugar in it, at any rate to hide its unprepossessing appearance even if it did not render it palatable, his patient would never take it.
"Thady, you know, was dining with me yesterday, and we were talking over Ballycloran and old Flannelly's money matters; and I was, you see, just making a bad tenant's excuses to him, and so on from one thing to another, till we got talking about you, Feemy; – in short, he didn't seem quite happy about you."
"I don't know I ever did anything to make him unhappy."
"No, it wasn't anything you had done to make him unhappy, but he is afraid you ain't happy in yourself; and Feemy, my dear, you should always remember, that though Thady is rough in his manners, and perhaps not at all times so gentle in his words as he should be, his heart is in the right place, – at any rate where you are concerned. Though maybe he doesn't say so as often as others might, he's a very fond brother to you."
"And I'm sure I'm always very fond of him – but then he's so queer; but, Father John, if I've offended Thady, I'll beg his pardon, for I'm sure I don't want to be out with him."
"I'm sure you don't, Feemy; but that's not exactly it either. Thady's not the least in life offended with you; he's not at all easy to take offence, at least not with you; but he doesn't think you are just at ease with yourself; and to come to the truth at once, he was telling me what passed between you yesterday."
Feemy blushed up to her paper curls, but she said nothing.
"Now, I'm thinking Thady didn't go about saying what he wanted to say yesterday, quite the way he should have done, and I am not sure I shall do it any better myself. But I thought it as well to step up, as I was certain you'd hear whatever your priest had to say to you."
"I don't think the better of Thady, though, for going and talking about me. If he'd only let me alone by myself I'd do well enough; it's all that talking does the harm, Father John."
Father John didn't exactly like to tell Feemy that girls in her situation were just the people that ought not to be left alone by themselves, – which probably means being left alone with some one of their own choosing; and that he was of opinion that she would not do very well if left alone in that way. That, however, was what he wished to convey to her.
"Oh, but, my dear, you must think better of Thady for wishing to
