Go your way, and God be with you! I go mine; grant me but a fortnight's happiness, and then, let what will come!" He had conquered.

The quiet earnestness of the voice, the child-like simplicity of the manner, of which every word conveyed the most delicate flattery--yet, she could see, without intending to flatter, without an after-thought--all these had won the impulsive Irish nature.

For all the dukes and marquises in Belgravia she would not have done it; for they would have meant more than they said, even when they spoke more clumsily: but for the plain country curate she hesitated, and asked herself, "What shall I give him ?" The rose from her bosom?
No.

That was too significant at once, and too commonplace; besides, it might wither, and he find an excuse for not restoring it.

It must be something valuable, stately, formal, which he must needs return.