“After a turn or two upon the _tir_rass, my Lord Colambre _quit_ his mother’s arm for a minute, and he come to the edge of the slope, and looked down and through all the crowd for some one. “‘Is it the Widow O’Neil, my lord?’ says I; ‘she’s yonder, with the white kerchief, betwixt her son and daughter, as usual.’ “Then my lord beckoned, and they did not know which of the _tree_ would stir; and then he gave _tree_ beckons with his own finger, and they all _tree_ came fast enough to the bottom of the slope forenent my lord: and he went down and helped the widow up, (oh, he’s the true jantleman!) and brought ‘em all _tree_ up on the _tir_rass, to my lady and Miss Nugent; and I was up close after, that I might hear, which wasn’t manners, but I couldn’t help it. So what he said I don’t well know, for I could not get near enough, after all. But I saw my lady smile very kind, and take the Widow O’Neil by the hand, and then my Lord Colambre _‘troduced_ Grace to Miss Nugent, and there was the word _namesake_, and something about a check curtain; but, whatever it was, they was all greatly pleased: then my Lord Colambre turned and looked for Brian, who had fell back, and took him, with some commendation, to my lord his father. And my lord the master said, which I didn’t know till after, that they should have their house and farm at the _ould_ rent; and at the surprise, the widow dropped down dead; and there was a cry as for ten _berrings_. ‘Be qui’te,’ says I, ‘she’s only kilt for joy;’ and I went and lift her up, for her son had no more strength that minute than the child new born; and Grace trembled like a leaf, as white as the sheet, but not long, for the mother came to, and was as well as ever when I brought some water, which Miss Nugent handed to her with her own hand. “‘That was always pretty and good,’ said the widow, laying her hand upon Miss Nugent, ‘and kind and good to me and mine.’ “That minute there was music from below. The blind harper, O’Neil, with his harp, that struck up ‘Gracey Nugent.’ “And that finished, and my Lord Colambre smiling, with the tears standing in his eyes too, and the _ould_ lord quite wiping his, I ran to the _tir_rass brink to bid O’Neil play it again; but as I run, I thought I heard a voice call ‘Larry!’ “‘Who calls Larry?’ says I. “‘My Lord Colambre calls you, Larry,’ says all at once; and four takes me by the shoulders and spins me round. ‘There’s my young lord calling you, Larry--run for your life.’ “So I run back for my life, and walked respectful, with my hat in my hand, when I got near.