So it was.

An' the burial over, she wint back an' burned the house to the ground--sarve the villain right that lave the sick woman alone! An' her own clothes she burned, an' put on the clothes I brought her wid me own hand.

An' for that thing she did, the love o' God in her heart, is it for Widdy Flynn or Cure or anny other to forgit?
Shure the Cure was for iver broken-hearted, for that he was sick abed for days an' could not go to the house when the woman died, an' say to Rosalie, 'Let me in for her last hour.' But the word of Rosalie--shure 'twas as good as the words of a praste, savin' the Cure prisince wheriver he may be!" This was the story of Rosalie which Mrs.Flynn told Charley, as he stood at the street door of the post-office.

When she had finished, Charley went back into the room where Rosalie sat beside the sick man's couch, the hound at her feet.

She came forward, surprised, for he had bade her good-bye but a few minutes before.
"May I sit and watch for an hour longer, Mademoiselle ?" he said.