(she was crying as if
her heart would break, looking in his face, and with her hands just a
little stretched towards him), oh, Masther Richard, I'm nothing to you
now--your poor wild Nan!'

Poor thing! Her mother had not given her the best education. I believe
she was a bit of a thief, and she could tell fibs with fluency and
precision. The woman was a sinner; but her wild, strong affections were
true, and her heart was not in pelf.

'Now, don't cry--where's the good of crying--listen to me,' said
Devereux.

'Sure I heerd you were sick, last week, Masther Richard,' she went on,
not heeding, and with her cold fingers just touching his arm
timidly--and the moon glittered on the tears that streamed down her poor
imploring cheeks--'an' I'd like to be caring you; an' I think you look
bad, Masther Richard.'

'No, Nan--I tell you, no--I'm very well, only poor, just now, Nan, or
_you_ should not want.'

'Sure I know, Masther Richard: it is not that. I know you'd be good to
me if you had it: and it does not trouble me.'

'But see, Nan, you must speak to your friends, and say--'

'Sorra a friend I have--sorra a friend, Masther Richard; and I did not
spake to the priest this year or more, and I darn't go near him,' said
the poor Palmerstown lass that was once so merry.

'Why won't you listen to me, child? I won't have you this way. You must
have your cloak and hood. 'Tis very cold; and, by Heavens, Nan, you
shall never want while I have a guinea. But you see I'm poor now, curse
it--I'm poor--I'm sorry, Nan, and I have only this one about me.'

'Oh, no, Masther Richard, keep it--maybe you'd want it yourself.'

'No, child, don't vex me--there--I'll have money in a week or two, and
I'll send you some more, Nan--I'll not forget you.' He said this in a
sadder tone; 'and, Nan, I'm a changed man. All's over, you know, and
we'll see one another no more. You'll be happier, Nan, for the parting,
so here, and now, Nan, we'll say good-bye.'

'Oh! no--no--no--not good-bye; you couldn't--couldn't--couldn't--your
poor wild Nan.'

And she clung to his cloak, sobbing in wild supplication.

'Yes, Nan, good-bye, it must be--no other word.'

'An' oh, Masther Richard, is it in airnest? You wouldn't, oh! sure you
wouldn't.'

'Now, Nan, there's a good girl; I must go. Remember your promise, and
I'll not forget you, Nan--on my soul, I won't.'

'Well, well, mayn't I chance to see you, maybe? mayn't I look at you
marching, Masther Rich