"I don't mind," says Mona. "We are Paddies, of course.",
"He's covered, safe enough. They've throwed an ould sheet over him,—over what remains of him this cruel day. Och, wirra-wirra!" cries the woman, suddenly, throwing her hands high above her head, and giving way to a peculiar long, low, moaning sound, so eerie, so full of wild despair and grief past all consolation, as to make the blood in Rodney's veins run cold.,
"I don't care what you have said," interrupts Mona, quickly. She has her arms round Lady Rodney's waist by this time, and is regarding her beseechingly..
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