“I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. A young man was playing the banjo. Very well, then. She was very pretty. “This is Mr. ” “It seems so—so unworthy”—she picked among her phrases “of the noble love you give—” She stopped, through the difficulty she found in expressing herself. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. You didn’t even do that Vee; not even that. “John’s here. ” She acted calm, but could not help being offended. "Is this Misther Wudd's, my pretty miss?" demanded the rough voice of the Irish watchman.
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