“He tould you a lie then,” said Roseen with flashing eyes; “I never said that—­oh, aye, to be sure, I believe I did though, but ye have no call to be castin’ that up at me, Mike; if I did itself, I done it for love of you.  Now!  When me grandfather tould me he was goin’ to put your father and mother out on the road I begged and prayed an’ done everythin’ I could to persuade him to give up the notion, an’ at last says I, ‘Well, grandfather,’ says I, ’I’ll promise never to speak to Mike agin,’ says I,’ nor so much as look at him,’ says I, ’if ye’ll only let them stop in it.’  Sure, whoever it was went carryin’ stories to ye must have been hard set to find somethin’ to say if they brought up that, an’ you had no call to be listenin’ to them.  I’d soon stop the mouth of any wan that went about makin’ out tales about you.”

Never had she looked more bewitching than in her anger; her great blue eyes, open to their fullest extent, were flashing with scorn and wrath though the big tears still hung on their long lashes.  The little curled upper lip showed glistening white teeth, the colour came and went in the pretty dimpled cheeks—­cheeks that looked so soft and inviting.  Mike bit his lips and thrust his hands in the depths of his ragged pockets, clenching them in the effort to preserve his self-control.  He could not help a flash of joy lighting up his face for a moment, but he turned away to hide it.  Wasn’t she the jewel of the world altogether, an’ how could he ever have been such a gomeril as to doubt her?  But all the same he must mind himself.  It was not for the likes of him to be thinking of her that way.  Sure, what matter if she had been his sweetheart twenty times over in days gone by—­she could never be his sweetheart now.  Stiffening himself therefore and again resuming his lofty tone, he proceeded:  “Indeed I am truly grateful to you, Miss Rorke, for all your goodness an’ all ye done for me father and mother.  Jack McEvoy’s afther tellin’ me that they are in the height o’ comfort.  Indeed I’d never have thought of lookin’ for them there at all; I never have expected you to be puttin’ yourself about that way for them.”

“An’ why wouldn’t they be with me?” cried Roseen quickly.  “Isn’t it the right place for them to be?  They had a right to be stoppin’ there altogether, on’y that they are that fond of their own little place I don’t think they ’ud ever contint themselves.”

Mike suddenly sat down on the slab, but at a very discreet distance from Roseen.  He cleared his throat and looked towards her, but seemed to find a difficulty in speaking.  Roseen began to swing one of the little pendant feet and looked away into the blue distance.

“Sure,” she resumed in an indifferent tone, after a moment’s pause, “when their own house is not ready for them, the best place for them to be in is their son’s.”

The colour rushed over Mike’s cheek and brow; his heart began to beat violently, and his limbs to tremble.  There was a long silence, broken only by the old familiar song of the lark sounding jubilantly from above their heads; the rustling of the tall fawn-coloured grasses that grew among the stones, and the distant faint lowing of cattle.