slip of
a _colleen_, with a sturdy and independent will of her own, that
belied the soft shy glances she could cast at a man. She was promised
to a boy over the seas, who was making a home for her and her mother
in America, and there was another boy in the parish, John Sullivan, or
Shawn Dhuv, as they usually called him because of his dark complexion,
was fairly mad about her. Shawn was well off. He was the cleverest
farmer that side of the country, just the kind of man Mr.
Ramsay-Stewart wanted and was prepared to encourage when he got him.
His land was clean and well-tilled, and he had a fine stock of cattle
as well as horses, and hay, and straw, and machines that had cost a
handful of money, for he was quick to take up new-fangled notions.
People used to say Shawn would be a rich man one day, for he was
prudent, drank little, and was a silent man, keeping himself to
himself a good deal.

Well, little Fanny had a hard time with the mother over her steady
refusals to have anything to say to Black Shawn. She was an
aggravating old woman, one of the whimpering sort; and sorely she must
have tried poor Fanny often with her coaxing and crying, but the
little girl was as stout as a rock where her absent boy was concerned.

Shawn Dhuv heard in time of the eviction, and in a bad moment for
himself thought he'd press his suit once more; he knew he had the old
woman on his side, and he thought he might find the young one in such
a humour that she'd be glad to accept his hand and heart, and the
cover of his little farmhouse. He had an idea too that he'd only to
ask Mr. Ramsay-Stewart for the Murphys' farm and he'd get it, and he
thought this would be a fine lever to work with.

But he never made such a mistake, for little Fanny turned on him like
the veriest spitfire.

'You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Black Shawn,' she cried, with
her eyes flashing, 'to keep persecuting a girl that's as good as wife
to another man. Why, if he was never in the world, do you think I'd
take one like you, that's plotting and planning to take our bit of
land before the ashes of our roof-tree are gone gray? If he was here
he'd know how to avenge us, and not till he had done it would he look
the girl he loved in the face.'

She was holding forth like this, her words tripping each other up in
her anger; but sure, the poor little girl didn't mean what she was
saying about revenge; it was likely some hot words she'd picked up out
of the newsp