North, South and over the Sea Part 37

"I am not goin' to take her lavin's, then," retorted Roseen with spirit. "Neither her jew'lry, her dresses, nor her husband will I have, so there! That's my answer, an' you may tell him so. He may go make up his match with somebody else for me." With a whisk of her skirts and a stamp of her foot, she returned to her b.u.t.ter.

"Come, come!" said Peter, knitting his brows. "Come, come, come!" he repeated, in warning tones; "this won't do, miss."

Roseen tossed her head, and gave her roll of b.u.t.ter two or three little pats.

"If I bid you take Mr. Quinn, you'll have to take him," said Peter angrily.

"I won't, then," retorted Roseen, and she finished off one little roll and fell to preparing another.

"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 a.s.sumed a wheedling tone.

"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. An' lookit here, Roseen, you are all the descendants I have, an' if you do as I bid you, I'll make me will after ye are married to Mr. Quinn, an' leave the two 'o you this place an' everything in the wide world that I have. There now!"

This tempting prospect was too much for Roseen. She whisked round again so rapidly that she overturned a pan of cream; her cheeks were flaming, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with anger.

"I'll be thankin' ye not to talk to me that way, grandfather," she cried. "I declare it's enough to vex a saint! I won't have Mr. Quinn, an' wouldn't if he gave me a carpet of gould to walk upon. That's me answer, an' he needn't be waitin' for me, for I won't have him."

Peter Rorke shook his head sorrowfully.

"Ye'll be bringin' me white hairs with sorrow to the grave, the same as your father," he remarked, oblivious of the fact that the poor fellow in question had only succeeded in laying low his own curly black ones. "I declare me heart's broke. Ye had a right to have a bit more consideration for me, Roseen, after all I done for ye. Did I ever give ye a cross word, now, since you come here?"

Roseen opened her eyes a little blankly, stricken with sudden remorse.

It was true her grandfather had ever treated her kindly since she had come to Monavoe, and indeed, after a certain queer fas.h.i.+on, the two had grown to be rather fond of each other.

"Haven't I always given you everything you wanted?" pursued Peter, in a querulous tone; "everything in reason, anyhow. Look at the beautiful blue tabinet dress I gave you--sure there isn't the like in the place--and the new hat ye have, an' kid gloves an' all! Sure, I never deny you anything! An' you up an' give me them disrespectful answers, an' refuse to do the only thing I ever axed ye!"

Tears were actually twinkling in the old man's narrow eyes, so much aggrieved did he feel himself to be. Roseen began to cry too. "It's me that has me heart broke," she sobbed. "How can I go marryin' Mr. Quinn wid his ugly red face, an' him an ould widower an' cross-eyed into the bargain? Sure, if it was anything else now--" A burst of woe interrupted her utterance.

"Me child," said Peter impressively, "I know more what's for your good nor you do yourself; but don't distress yourself too much, alanna: Mr.

Quinn says he does not mind waitin' as long as you like, so we'll say no more about it for a while."

"O--o--o--oh!" groaned Roseen.

Peter prevented further lamentations by a.s.suring her, with various affectionate pats on the arm, that he knew she would never go annoyin'

her poor ould grandfather, but they'd say no more about it, for a bit anyhow. He withdrew, leaving Roseen still sobbing amid the fragments of a broken milk-pan, and perhaps the ruins of a castle in the air.

Presently, however, she dried her eyes, and, being a methodical person, set to work to repair the disorder around her. When the broken crockery was removed, the cream wiped up, and the remaining b.u.t.ter rolled into shape, she went out, closing the dairy door after her and, giving a hasty glance to right and to left, made her way swiftly across the "haggard" and down a gra.s.sy lane beyond, to a large field, where a man was to be seen leisurely a.s.sembling together a troop of cows.

Roseen ran quickly across the gra.s.s towards him, stopping as soon as she perceived that he had caught sight of her, and beckoning to him mysteriously.

"Come here, Mike!" she cried softly, as he hastened towards her, "I've something to be tellin' ye."

Mike quickened his pace. He was a tall young fellow, but slender, with an honest, good-humoured face. Without being handsome, there was something attractive about him--an alertness, a vigour in the well-knit limbs, a candour and kindliness in the expression of the open face, a tenderness, moreover, in the blue eyes as they rested on Roseen--which would seem to account for the fact that these former playfellows were now lovers.

Roseen looked piteously at him, as he halted beside her, gazing with alarm at the trace of tears which still remained on her face.

"Me grandfather wants me to get married to Mr. Quinn," she announced briefly.

"G.o.d bless us!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mike, his cheeks growing pale beneath their tan. "What did ye say, alanna?"

"I said I wouldn't," answered Roseen.

"That's me brave girl! I declare ye're afther givin' me such a fright, I don't know whether I am on me head or on me heels. Was he goin' to murther ye for that?"

"He was at first," replied the girl, "and then he began sayin'--Oh dear, oh dear, me heart's broke!" She was sobbing now violently.

"Sure, what matther what he says?" cried Mike, much concerned. "Ye have no call to be frettin' that way; let him say what he likes, bad luck to him! Sure, ye won't be havin' Mr. Quinn, Roseen, will ye?"

"N--no," said Roseen. "Me grandfather says I'm bringin' his white hairs with sorrow to the grave."

"Ah, the ould gomeril!" retorted Mike unsympathetically. "Bedad, what hairs he has isn't white at all, but red as carrots! Don't ye be listenin', Roseen, asth.o.r.e. Sure, ye wouldn't marry ugly Mr. Quinn?"

he repeated anxiously.

"I would not," replied Roseen; "but I don't like me grandfather to be talkin' that way. An'--an' his hair isn't that red, Mike," she added reprovingly; "ye have no call to be sayin' it is."

"If I never said worse nor you have said yourself often an' often!"

retorted the lad. "Many's the time I heard ye at it."

"That was before I had sense," replied Roseen, a trifle loftily; "ye have no call to be castin' that up at me now. Me an' me grandfather has never fell out since I come here."

"Oh, that indeed," said Mike sarcastically; "ye're gettin' altogether too good an' too grand. Hothen indeed, I may as well make up my mind to it--ye'll be Mrs. Quinn before the year is out. Sure, what chanst has a poor fellow the same as meself, wid the ould wans at home to support as well as meself, when there's such a fine match as Mr. Quinn to the fore! Och bedad! when ye're sittin' along wid him on your side-car, ye'll never offer to throw so much as a look at poor Mike."

At this affecting picture Roseen wept more than ever, and brokenly a.s.sured the honest fellow that not for all the Mister Quinns in the world would she ever forget him, and that she would wait for him till she was grey, she would, an' marry n.o.body else, no matter what might happen.

Thus rea.s.sured, Mike could not do less than apologise for his intemperate language, and a reconciliation was in the act of taking place when Mr. Peter Rorke chanced to look over the hedge. It was past milking-time, and he had come to see why his cows had not been driven in as usual. Leaning on his stick and trembling with rage, he apostrophised the young pair in no measured terms.

"Now I understand, miss," he added, after relieving his mind by a burst of eloquence, "now I understand why you thought so bad of Mr.

Quinn's kind offer. It was this young schamer ye had in your mind--him that ye should think no more of nor the dirt under your feet."

"Well then, grandfather," cried Roseen hotly, "I may as well tell ye straight out that I won't stand here an' hear Michael Clancy abused.

He's all the husband ever I'll have, an' ye may make up your mind to that."

Peter spluttered with fury and brandished his stick. It was perhaps well for the girl that the hedge divided them.

"Get in wid ye into the house this minute out o' me sight," he screamed. "Him your husband! A dirty little beggar's brat that I picked up out o' the gutter for charity!"

"Charity yourself," interrupted Mike, squaring his shoulders. "I've done more work for ye nor ever ye paid me for--now! 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. Be off, now, before I come over the hedge to you."

"If you dar' lay a finger," began Mike; but Roseen interrupted him with a little defiant laugh.