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Under the sun!',At this point the house comes in view, and conversation languishes. The women give a small touch to their furs and laces, the men indulge in a final yawn that is to last them until the gates of Anadale close behind them again.,"I don't want to think of it," says her friend, desperately.,"Is it?" says she, a little wistfully. "You think so now; but if afterwards you should know regret, or——","And have you walked from Coolnagurtheen this morning? Why, it is eight miles from this," says she, taking no notice of his last speech. "You could have had no breakfast!","Why not? You will go there, perhaps when you are married.","For the agint, miss. Oh, if ye tell on me now they'll kill me. Maxil, ye know; me lord's agint.","Ye—es; he will do," says Mona, after a second's careful thought, and even now reluctantly.,And could not if they durst,',The tender trembles of the ringdove's dole.",Of waving bough, or warbling bird,,To-morrow will be market-day in Bantry, to which the week's butter must go; and now the churning is over, and the result of it lies cold and rich and fresh beneath Mona's eyes. She herself is busily engaged printing little pats off a large roll of butter that rests on the slab before her; her sleeves are carefully tucked up, as on that first day when Geoffrey saw her; and in defiance of her own heart—which knows itself to be sad—she is lilting some little foolish lay, bright and shallow as the October sunshine that floods the room, lying in small silken patches on the walls and floor..