“Sure you have tould me all you want to say, an' there's no use in us stayin' here. You know, Phelim, there's not a girl in the Parish 'ud believe a word that 'ud come but o' your lips. Sure there's none o' them but you coorted one time or other. If you could get betther, Phelim, I dunna whether you'd be here to-night at all or not.” “Answer me this, Peggy. What do you! think your father 'ud be willin' to give you? Not that I care a _cron abaun_ about it, for I'd marry you wid an inch of candle.” “You know my father's but a poor man, Phelim, an' can give little or nothing. Them that won't marry me as I am, needn't come here to look for a fortune.” “I know that, Peggy, an' be the same token, I want no fortune at all wid you but yourself, darlin'. In the mane time, to show you that I could get a fortune--_Dhera Lorha Heena_, I could have a wife wid a hundre an' twenty guineas!” Peggy received this intelligence much in the same manner as Larry and Sheelah had received it. Her mirth was absolutely boisterous for at least ten minutes. Indeed, so loud had it been, that Larry and her father could not help asking:-- “Arrah, what's the fun, Peggy, achora?” “Oh, nothin',” she replied, “but one o' Phelim's bounces.” “Now,” said Phelim, “you won't believe me? Be all the books--” Peggy's mirth prevented his oaths from being heard. In vain he declared, protested, and swore. On this occasion, he was compelled to experience the fate peculiar to all liars. Even truth, from his lips, was looked upon as falsehood. Phelim, on finding that he could neither extort from Peggy an acknowledgment of love, nor make himself credible upon the subject of the large fortune, saw that he had nothing for it now, in order to produce an impression, but the pathetic. “Well,” said he, “you may lave me, Peggy achora, if you like; but out o' this I'll not budge, wid a blessing, till I cry my skinful, so I won't. Saize the toe I'll move, now, till I'm sick wid cryin'! Oh, murdher alive, this night! Isn't it a poor case entirely, that the girl I'd suffer myself to be turned inside out for, won't say that she cares about a hair o' my head! Oh, thin, but I'm the misfortunate blackguard all out! Och, oh! Peggy, achora, you'll break my heart! Hand me that shell, acushla--for I'm in the height of affliction!” Peggy could neither withhold it, nor reply to him. Her mirth was even more intense now than before; nor, if all were known, was Phelim less affected with secret laughter than Peggy. “It is makin' fun o' me you are, you thief, eh?--Is it laughin' at my grief you are?” exclaimed Phelim. “Be the tarn' o' wor, I'll punish you for that.” Peggy attempted to escape, but Phelim succeeded, ere she went, in taking a salutation or two, after which both joined those who sat at the fire, and in a few minutes Sam Appleton entered. Much serious conversation had already passed in reference to the courtship, which was finally entered into and debated, pro and con.