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Updated: September 27, 2025
And the Clancys is as good as the Rorkes, an' an oulder family, though we are down in the world, along wid bad luck an' misfortun'." "The Clancys is an ould ancient family," chimed in Roseen. Her grandfather turned to her, almost beside himself with exasperation. "Get in wid ye to the house this instant, as I bid ye, miss; or it'll be the worse for ye.
"Listen, Roseen, like a good sensible girl. Sure, ye know very well it's me that holds the place of father an' mother to you now, an' it's my duty to see you are settled an' provided for. Well, now, ye might sarch the world over an' not find such a good man as Mr. Quinn, an' a real gentleman, too, mind you. Sure, it's jumping with joy you ought to be.
Roseen had sent her car for him to the prison door, and Mike, releasing himself at length from the handshakes of the friends who awaited him outside, and being anxious to dispense with their escort, had induced the driver, with a hasty whispered word or two, to whip up the fast-trotting mare, which had thereupon started at a break-neck pace down the street, soon leaving the astonished convoy far behind.
"You owe everything in this wide world to me, I would have you remember," cried Peter, stammering in his wrath; "if I was to turn you out o' doors this minute, ye wouldn't have a place to go to." "I would soon find a place," said Roseen. "I told ye that before I come here." Peter, finding the threat of no avail, changed his tactics, and assumed a wheedling tone.
Peter Rorke remained in a condition of mind bordering upon frenzy; some of his neighbours opined that he was goin' out of his wits altogether, and there were moments when Roseen herself was in terror of him. The old man's excitement took a most unpleasant form, his hatred of Mike and his unfortunate parents being little less than rabid.
Michael was after havin' words with the ould fellow, it was rumoured, on account of his bein' sweet on Roseen, an' him and his ould father and mother were goin' to be put out o' their little place. Sure no wonder the poor boy Well, well, he'd have had the time to get far enough off by this, an' it was nobody's business, on'y his own, poor fellow!
The outline of Roseen's pretty face and head stood out cameo-like against the background of sunlit stone; Mike's gaze fastened itself there and could not detach itself. There was a long pause, then with a great effort he forced himself to speak. "Roseen, darlint, there's not a ha'porth of good the two of us goin' on this a-way; we may as well talk out plain.
I wouldn't like to be doin' that, Roseen." "If they was rale bad people," said Roseen persuasively; "rale wicked, crule people, the same as me gran'father beyant, it 'ud sarve them right, or we might throw down a sup of bilin' wather," she added as a concession. Mike appeared unconvinced.
Roseen had been making butter when her grandfather entered, and, turning round, displayed a face rosy with her exertions, and arms bare to the elbow. "So here ye are," remarked Peter, his grim face relaxing as much as was possible to it; "I've been lookin' for ye everywhere. Do ye know what I am after doin' for you this fine mornin'?"
All poor Mike's pride and valour seemed to have deserted him since Peter's threat. "Sure, Roseen an' me was always fond of one another," he said pleadingly. "I couldn't remember a time when we wasn't. Her an' me was ould playfellows, and she used to be as much at our place as at home." "It won't be your place much longer," retorted Peter curtly.
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