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But Ailsa sang on obstinately: "Castles are sacked in war, Chieftains are scattered far, Truth is a fixed star, Aileen aroon." And, glancing back over her shoulder, caught her breath quickly. "Celia! What is the matter, dear?" "Nothing. I don't like such songs just now " "What songs?" "I don't know, Ailsa; songs about war and castles.
I hope your Reverence 'll come to the christ'nin'? But about the clo'es; bad luck saize the tack I have to put to my back, but what you see an me, if we wor to be married to-morrow." "Well, Phelim, aroon," said Mrs. Doran, "his Reverence here has my little pences o' money in his hands, an' the best way is for you to get the price of a suit from him.
"There's some thruth in what you say, aroon, sure enough," observed Ellish; "an' if his Reverence puts another hundhre to it, why, in the name of goodness, let them go together. If you don't choose that, Docthor, never breathe the subject to me agin. Dan's not an ould man yit, an' has time enough to get wives in plenty."
The priest has been friend, counsellor, sympathizer, helper, as well as clergyman, and so he is soggarth aroon. The storm continues at intervals. I get one clear, cold bit of fair weather to climb to the top of Doune hill, where the Ulster kings used to be crowned, a sugar-loaf shaped hill with the top broken off, rising in isolated grandeur up high enough to give one a breather to get to the top.
Dear are her charms to me, Dearer her laughter free, Dearest her constancy. Aileen aroon. Youth must with time decay, Aileen aroon, Beauty must fade away, Aileen aroon. Castles are sacked in war, Chieftains are scattered far, Truth is a fixed star, Aileen areon. The way the earnest singer sang these lines is beyond the conception of ordinary singers, public or private.
Why, it's smothered I'll be in this queer place. I doubt if I'll stay long. I'll write to father, and ask him to take me back again." "I would if I were you," said Alice stoutly. "Now, what do you mean by that, 'Alice, aroon?"
Ellish, Ellish won't you spake one word to me afore you go? Won't you take one farewell of me of me, aroon asthore, before you depart from us for ever!" exclaimed her husband. "Feeling the bed-clothes," said the priest, "is not always a, sign of death; I have known many to recover after it. "Husht," said Peter "husht! Mary Mary! Come hear hould your tongues!
Bolts were shot, keys turned; from the lighted front parlour came the notes of the sweet-toned square piano, and Ailsa's voice: "Dear are her charms to me, Dearest her constancy, Aileen aroon " "Never mind any more of that silly song!" exclaimed Celia, imprisoning Ailsa's arms from behind. "Youth must with time decay, Aileen aroon, Beauty must fade away, Aileen aroon " "Don't, dear! please "
She sung Aileen Aroon, not with her daughter's eloquence, but with a purity and mellowness that charmed the room: they had never heard the genius sing it.
"Eileen aroon, beggars can't be choosers." Eileen flushed all over her body. "No more can beggars on horseback." "Your father will be sorry you take it like that, mavourneen." And the stout saint burst into tears. Eileen winced. She could almost have flung her arms round her mother and promised to think of it. Suddenly she remembered Lieutenant Doherty.
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