her come around; maybe there'll be a bit of an
argument, but she'll come around. And if she doesn't, there'd have been
no hope for you, anyway. A touch o' the spur for the lazy mare and a bit
sugar for the jumper! And when you've done loving her, gie her a chuck
in the chin: 'Good-by! Good luck! What you keep to yoursel' 'll worry
nobody,' says you. And to hell with her!"

"Alan Donn!"

"Oh, it's that way, is it, Shaneen? If you're in deep water, there's
none but yourself can help you, laddie. I thought it was just maybe a
case o' laugh and kiss me. But it's different, is it? There's no use
giving advice. What's in you will out. But remember this: when it's
over, for good or bad, your Uncle Alan's here, to laugh with you or
greet with you or help you out of a hole. So--

"Good-by, laddie. _Beannacht leat!_ My blessing with you!"

Section 7

"Young lad, what is this you have done to my fine young daughter?"

"I have done nothing, Bhean 'i Dolain," young Shane flared up, "save in
honor, and the man or woman who says other lies."

"Agra, I know that. I know there's no harm in you from head to foot. And
the trouble you've put on her is in her heart. All day long she sighs,
and is listless as a shaded plant that does be needing the sun. All
night long she keeps awake, and the wee silent tears come down her face.
And before my eyes she's failing, and her step that was once light now
drags the like of a cripple's. Young lad of the North, you've put love
in the heart of her and sorrow in the mind."

"I'm not so sprightly in the mind myself, woman Dolan."

"I know, avick. I know. Isn't it myself that's suffered the seven pangs
of love and I a young girl? But it's easy on a man, avick. He can go
into the foreign countries, and put it out of his mind, or take to the
drink and numb the great pain. But for a woman it's different. It's the
like of a disfiguration that all can see. And when you're gone away,
sure all will remember, for men do be minding long. The marrying time
will come, and they'll look at my grand young daughter: strong farmer,
and merchant of the shop, and drover does be going to England for the
cattle-fairs, and they'll say: 'Isn't that the red girl gave love to the
sailing fellow, and burnt her heart out so that there's no sap in it for
me?' And they'll pass her by, my grand young daughter, that's the equal
of any."

"And what would you have me do, woman of the house?"

"What would any decent man d