“Don’t I say, darlin’, that they will be married, an’ be happy—­ay, an’ may God make them happy! as He will, blessed be His holy name!  God, acushla, can bring about everything in His own good way.”

After another pause of some minutes he murmured to himself—­“Peggy Na Laveen—­Peggy Na Laveen—­how far that name has gone!  Turn me round a little.  What brought us here, childre’?  Oh! ay—­I wanted to see the ould places—­there’s Claghleim, where the walls of the house she was born in, and the green garden, is both to the fore; yet I hope they won’t be disturbed, if it was only for the sake of them that’s gone; an’ there’s the rock on the top of Lisbane,where, in the summer evening, long, long ago, I used to sit an’ listen to Peggy Na Laveen singin’ over our holy songs—­the darlin’ ould songs of the counthry.  Oh! clear an’ sweet they used to ring across the glen of the Mountain Wather.  An’ there’s the hills an’ the fields where she an’ I so often sported when we wor both young; there they are, an’ many a happy day we had on them; but sure God was good to us, blessed be His name, as He ever will be to them that’s obadient to His holy will!”

As he uttered the last words he clasped his two hands together, and, having closed his eyes, he muttered something internally which they could not understand.  “Now,” said he, “bring me in again; I have got my last look at them all—­the ould places, the brave ould places! oh, who would lave them for any other country?  But at any rate, Tom, achora, don’t take me away from them; sure you wouldn’t part me from the green fields of Carriglass?  Sure you’d not take me from the blessed graveyard of Carndhu, where we all sleep.  I couldn’t rest in a sthrange grave, nor among strange people; I couldn’t rest, barrin’ I’m wid her, Peggy Na Laveen.”  These words he uttered after his return into the house.

“Grandfather,” said Bryan, “make your mind aisy; we won’t take you from the brave ould places, and you will sleep in Carndhu with Peggy Na Laveen; make your heart and mind easy, then, for you won’t be parted.”

He turned his eyes upon the speaker, and a gleam of exultation and delight settled upon his worn but venerable features; nor did it wholly pass away, for, although his chin sank upon his breast, yet the placid expression remained.  On raising his head they perceived that this fine and patriarchal representative of the truthful integrity and simple manners of a bygone class had passed into a life where neither age nor care can oppress the spirit, and from whose enjoyment no fear of separation can ever disturb it.

It is unnecessary to describe the sorrow which they felt.  It must be sufficient to say that seldom has grief for one so far advanced in years been so sincere and deep.  Age, joined to the knowledge of his affectionate heart and many virtues, had encircled him with a halo of love and pious veneration which caused his disappearance from among them to be felt, as if a lamb of simple piety and unsullied truth had been removed from their path for ever.