Part 68 (2/2)

”Is it flattherin' me y'are, Dermot? because if so ye may go away!

Shure, 'tis all the blarney the bhoys does be givin' me is dhrivin' me away from me home. Maybe ye'll get sinse whin I lave ye all, as I will to-morrow!”

[Sidenote: ”Will ye Stay?”]

”Oh, Eily, jewil, don't say that! don't!” he pleaded, his blue eyes looking earnestly into hers. ”Whin ye go, you will take all the suns.h.i.+ne out of me poor heart; it's to Ameriky I will go, for nothin' will be the same to me without you, mavourneen! Eily, Eily, will ye stay?”

But Eily was firm.

”Faith, thin, I will not, Dermot! I'm weary of my life here; I want to see London and the world. Shure, I'll come back some day with gold of me own, a rale lady, for all the world like the gintry at the castle below.”

He took her hands for a moment and wrung them in his, then, with a look of dumb agony in his blue eyes, turned his back upon her and continued his way down the mountain side.

London! was this indeed London, the goal of all her hopes, the place where _he_ lived, and moved, and had his being?

[Ill.u.s.tration: EILY STOOD A FORLORN DESOLATE FIGURE ON EUSTON PLATFORM.]

Eily stood, a forlorn, desolate figure, among the crowds that jostled each other carelessly on Euston platform. The pretty face that peeped from the folds of a thick woollen shawl looked tired after the long journey, and her feet--oh, how they ached! for they were unaccustomed to the pressure of the heavy, clumsy boots in which they were now encased.

What a crowd of people, and how ”quare” the talk sounded! How grandly they were all dressed! not one with a red petticoat like the new one she had been so proud of only yesterday morning; she glanced at it now with contempt, deciding to discard it before she had been another day in London.

There was a girl sitting on her box not far from Eily; she was evidently waiting for some one to fetch her. Eily eyed her garments with envy; they were of dazzling crimson, plentifully besprinkled with jet; she wore a large hat trimmed with roses; a ”diamond” brooch fastened her neck-ribbon, and a ”golden” chain fell from neck to waist; but what Eily liked best of all was the thick, black fringe that covered her forehead; such ”style” the simple peasant had never before beheld; if only her aunt would be generous she would buy just such a dress as that, but whether or not, the fringe could be had for nothing, and _he_ should see that she could be as genteel as any one else, he need never be ashamed of her.

Her plans and projects were alike cut short by her aunt, who, hot and excited after a wordy war with porters and cabmen, ran breathlessly along the platform.

”Make haste, Eily! how long are you goin' to stand there staring like a sick owl? Hurry up, child; the cabman will be for charging me overtime if you're so slow, and it's bad enough to have to pay ordinary fare all that way.”

Eily took up the little tin box that held all her worldly possessions, and followed her aunt to the cab like one in some horrible dream. The fog, the crowds, the noises, the strangeness of everything! With a chill at her warm young heart she took her seat in the cab, and was driven swiftly through the streets. The fog was lifting slightly; she could see the houses and buildings stretching as far as eyes could follow them; houses everywhere, people everywhere; men, women, and children hurrying along the pavements; cabs and carts rolling unceasingly.

[Sidenote: ”Is there a Fair To-day?”]

”Is there a fair to-day?” she asked her aunt, who was sitting opposite with closed eyes.

”Fair? Simpleton! it's this way every day, only worse, because this is early morning, and there's only a few about yet;” and Mrs. Murphy's eyes closed again.

The cab rattled along, the streets became narrow and unsavoury, but Eily knew no difference; it was all grand to her unsophisticated eyes; the little shops, with lights that flared dismally in their untidy windows, caused her much excitement and speculation.

At last the cab drew up, and her aunt awoke from her nap in a bad temper.

”Get my things together, quick, and don't dawdle; we're at home now, and you will have to set about your work!”

Eily gathered together bags and boxes and set them down upon the pavement, while her aunt haggled with the driver in a spirited manner; the man went off, grumbling at the meanness of a ”couple o' Hirishers,”

but Eily, not understanding the English manner of using the aspirate, was blissfully unconscious of his meaning.

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