one of those
queer turns of his eyes, stretching out his hands towards my mother.

"Really, Mr Gillooly, seeing I have been a widow scarcely a year, and
have seen but little of you at my father's house, I cannot help thinking
this is strange language for you to use. I loved my husband, and I only
wish to live for the sake of our boy, and I hope this answer will
satisfy you."

"But when you have seen more of me, Mistress Burton, ye'll be after
giving a different answer," exclaimed our visitor. "Ye'll be after
making a sweet mistress for Ballyswiggan Hall, and it's there I'd like
to see ye, in the place of the departed Molly Gillooly. It was the last
words she said to me--`Ye'll be after getting another partner when I'm
gone, Dominic, won't ye now?' and I vowed by all the holy saints that I
would obey her wishes, though to be plain with you, Mistress Burton, I
little thought I could do so to my heart's content, as I did when I
first set my eyes on your fair countenance."

Much more to the same effect did Mr Gillooly utter, without, however, I
have reason to believe, making any impression on my mother's heart.
Without rudeness she could not get rid of him; and he, believing that he
was making great way in her affection, was in no wise inclined to
depart. Mr Gillooly, I may remark, was a friend of my grandfather's, a
squireen, with a mansion of similar description to Rincurran Castle,
though somewhat less dilapidated. His property enabled him to keep a
good horse, drink whisky, wear decent clothes, attend all wakes,
marriages, and fairs, and other merrymakings, and otherwise lead a
completely idle life. Mr Gillooly's visit had extended to a somewhat
unconscionable length, when a rap was heard at the door, and my mother
told me to run and open it; observing as she did so, "It's not all
people who so want manners as not to knock before they intrude into a
lone woman's house."

This severe remark of my gentle mother showed me that she was by this
time considerably annoyed by our visitor's continued presence. The
person who now entered wore a brown suit, with a low crowned hat on the
top of his curled wig. I recognised him as Mr Timothy Laffan, one of
the lawyers of Ballybruree. Though short, he was a broad-shouldered,
determined-looking man, with a nose which could scarcely be more
flattened than it was, and twinkling grey eyes which looked out
knowingly from under his shaggy eyebrows. He cast an inquisitive gla