“Yes, Denis,” she replied calmly, “there is a power, and a weak power, too, that will change it; for I will change it. Don't think, Denis, that in arguin' with you, against the feelin's of my own heart, I am doin' it without sufferin'. Oh, no, indeed! You know, Denis, I am a lonely girl; that I have neither brother, nor sister, nor mother to direct me. Sufferin'!--Oh, I wish you knew it! Denis, you must forget me. I'm hopeless now: my, heart, as I said, is broke, and I'm strivin' to fix it upon a happier world! Oh! if I had a mother or a sister, that I could, when my breast is likely to burst, throw myself in their arms, and cry and confess all I feel! But I'm alone, and must bear all my own sorrows. Oh, Denis! I'm not without knowin' how hard the task is that I have set to myself. Is it nothing to give up all that the heart is fixed upon? Is it nothing to walk about this glen, and the green fields, to have one's eyes upon them, and to remember what happiness one has had in them, knowin', at the same time, that it's all blasted? Oh, is it nothing to look upon the green earth itself,and all its beauty--to hear the happy songs and the joyful voices of all that are about us--the birds singing sweetly, the music of the river flowin'--to see the sun shinin', and to hear the rustlin' of the trees in the warm winds of summer--to see and hear all this, and to feel that a young heart is brakin', or already broken within us--that we are goin' to lave it all--all we loved--and to go down into the clay under us? Oh, Denis, this is hard;--bitter is it to me, I confess it; for something tells me it will be my fate soon!” “But, Susan”-- “Hear me out. I have now repated what I know I must suffer--what I know I must lose. This is my lot, and I must bear it. Now, Denis, will you grant your own Susan one request?” “If it was that my life should save yours, I would grant it.” “It's the last and only one I will ever ask of you. My health has been ill, Denis; my strength is gone, and I feel' I am gettin' worse every day: now when you hear that I am--that I am--gone,--will you offer up the first mass you say for my pace and rest in another world? I say the first, for you know there's more virtue in a first mass than in any other. Your Susan will be then in the dust, and you may feel sorrow, but not love for her.” “Never, Susan! For God's sake, forbear! You will drive me distracted. As I hope to meet judgment, I think I never loved you till now; and by the same oath, I will not change my purpose in making you mine.” “Then you do love me still, Denis? And you would give up all for your Susan? Answer me truly, for the ear of God is open to our words and thoughts.” “Then, before God, I love you too strongly for words to express; and I would and will give up all for your sake!”