he stranger from a pair of eyes so
deeply blue that at first you were unjust enough to think them black.

Her dress is a low bodice, and a short skirt of that brilliant dye the
Irish peasant of the west seems to possess the secret for. The jupe is
short, I say; and so much the better for you, as it displays a pair of
legs which, bare of shoe or stocking, are perfect in their symmetry--the
rounded instep and the swelling ankle chiselled as cleanly as a statue
of Canova.

And now, my good reader, having shown you all this, let me proceed with
my narrative.

'And sure now, sir, wouldn't it be better for you, and you sickly, to
be eating your breakfast, and not be waiting for Father Tom? Maybe he
wouldn't come in this hour yet.'

'No, thank you, Mary; I had rather wait. I hope you are not so tired of
my company that you want an excuse to get away?'

'Ah, be aisy now, if you plaze, sir! It's myself that's proud to be
talking to you.' And as she spoke she turned a pair of blue eyes upon me
with such a look that I could not help thinking if the gentlemen of
the west be exposed to such, their blood is not as hot as is reputed.
I suppose I looked as much; for she blushed deeply, and calling out,
'Here's Father Tom!' sprang to her legs and hurried from the room.

'Where are you scampering that way?' cried the good priest, as he passed
her in the hall. 'Ah, Captain, Captain! behave yourself!'

'I protest, father----' cried I.

'To be sure you do! Why wouldn't you protest? But see now, it was your
business brought me out this morning. Hand me over the eggs; I am
as hungry as a hawk. The devil is in that girl--they are as hard as
bullets! I see how it was, plain enough. It's little she was thinking of
the same eggs. Well, well! this is an ungrateful world; and only think
of me, all I was doing for you.'

'My dear father, you are quite wrong----'

'No matter. Another slice of bacon. And, after all, who knows if I
have the worst of it? Do you know, now, that Miss Bellew has about the
softest cheek----'

'What the devil do you mean?' said I, reddening. 'Why, just that I was
saluting her _a la Francaise_ this morning; and I never saw her look
handsomer in my life. It was scarce seven o'clock when I was over at
Kilmorran, but, early as it was, I caught her making breakfast for me;
and, father and priest that I am, I couldn't help feeling in love with
her. It was a beautiful sight just to watch her light step and graceful
fi