stop. I wouldn't
force myself on the best girl that ever stepped."

"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