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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Good news, dear?" "The best in the wurrld," and he choked a sob. "I knew it would come! I knew it would. Tell me, dear." "We're to go back back to back to Ireland. See here are the orders," and he showed her the official letter. She took it wonderingly and read it. Her hand dropped to her side. Her head drooped into the same position he had found her in.
"There 'e goes!" he said half aloud "Jes' like a boy! for all the wurrld like a boy! I reckon 'e's got the secret o' never growin' old, for all that 'is 'air's turnin' a bit grey. 'Ow many passons in this 'ere neighbrood would carry the children like that, I wonder? Not one on 'em! though there's a many to pick an' choose from a darned sight too many if you axes my opinion!
"Oh, I watch ye and listen to ye," went on Peg eagerly. "Ye turn yer face to the wurrld as much as to say, 'Look at me! aren't I the beautiful, quiet, well-bred, aisy-goin', sweet-tempered young lady? An' yer nothin' o' the kind, are ye?" Ethel went slowly over to Peg and looked into her eyes: "What am I?"
Peg sprawled into a chair with a great sigh of relief. "Thank ye, ant AUNT," she said. Then she looked at them all alternately and laughed heartily: "Sure I had no idea in the wurrld I had such fine relations. Although of course my father often said to me, 'Now, Peg, he would say, 'now, Peg, ye've got some grand folks on yer mother's side' " "Folks! Really Ethel!" cried Alaric disgustedly.
"Cupid! me darlin'. Faith, it's you that causes all the mischief in the wurrld, ye divil ye!" she cried. All her depression vanished. She was like a child again. She sat down at the piano and played the simple refrain and sang in her little girlish tremulous voice, one of her father's favourite songs, her eyes on Cupid: "Oh! the days are gone when Beauty bright My heart's charm wove!
"This: that ten years from now, with her own Government, with her own language back again Gaelic an' what language in the wurrld yields greater music than the old Gaelic? with Ireland united and Ireland's land in the care of IRISHMEN: with Ireland's people self-respectin' an' sober an' healthy an' educated: with Irishmen employed on Irish industries, exportin' them all over the wurrld: with Ireland's heart beatin' with hope an' faith in the future do ye know what will happen?"
I'm not very good at unnerstannin' that kind o' folk, not seein' myself 'owever a saint could manage to get on in this mortal wurrld; but I reckon to think there's a tollable imitation o' the real article in Passon Walden the jolly sort o' saint, o' coorse, not the prayin', whinin', snuffin' kind.
All her little likes and dislikes her impulsive affections and hot hatreds were all bound up in that country. She dreaded the prospect of meeting a number of new people. Still it was for her father's good, so she turned a brave face to it and said: "Sure it is the finest thing in the wurrld for both of us."
"It will make you a rich young lady in three years, remember. You will be secure from any possibility of poverty." "I don't care. I wouldn't stay over here for three years with" she caught Mrs. Chichester's eyes fastened on her and she checked herself. "I wouldn't stay away from me father for three years for all the money in the wurrld," she concluded, with marked finality.
Ethel brought the letter up to her eyes and read the superscription. "Think so?" she asked calmly. "I do," cried Peg hotly. "I do. It's the most wondherful thing in the whole wurrld. To love a good man, who loves you. A man that made ye hot and cold by turns: burnin' like fire one minnit an' freezin' like ice the next.
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