, however,
will probably be the case--he will have quite enough to last him till
he has drunk himself to death.

After his departure, there was nothing to delay Anty's marriage, but
her own rather slow recovery. She has no other relatives to ask, no
other friends to consult. Now that Barry was gone she was entirely
her own mistress, and was quite willing to give up her dominion over
herself to Martin Kelly. She had, however, been greatly shaken; not by
illness only, but by fear also--her fears of Barry and for Barry. She
still dreamed while asleep, and thought while awake, of that horrid
night when he crept up to her room and swore that he would murder her.
This, and what she had suffered since, had greatly weakened her, and it
was some time before Doctor Colligan would pronounce her convalescent.
At last, however, the difficulties were overcome; all arrangements were
completed. Anty was well; the property was settled; Martin was
impatient; and the day was fixed.

There was no bishop, no duchess, no man-cook, at the wedding-party
given on the occasion by Mrs Kelly; nevertheless, it was, in its way,
quite as grand an affair as that given by the countess. The widow
opened her heart, and opened her house. Her great enemy, Barry Lynch,
was gone--clean beaten out of the field--thoroughly vanquished; as far
as Ireland was concerned, annihilated; and therefore, any one else in
the three counties was welcome to share her hospitality. Oh, the excess
of delight the widow experienced in speaking of Barry to one of her
gossips, as the "poor misfortunate crature!" Daly, the attorney, was
especially invited, and he came. Moylan also was asked, but he stayed
away. Doctor Colligan was there, in great feather; had it not been for
him, there would probably have been no wedding at all. It would have
been a great thing if Lord Ballindine could have been got to grace
the party, though only for ten minutes; but he was at that time in
Switzerland with his own bride, so he could not possibly do so.

"Well, ma'am," said Mrs Costelloe, the grocer's wife, from Tuam, an
old friend of the widow, who had got into a corner with her to have a
little chat, and drink half-a-pint of porter before the ceremony,--"and
I'm shure I wish you joy of the marriage. Faux, I'm tould it's nigh to
five hundred a-year, Miss Anty has, may God bless and incrase it! Well,
Martin has his own luck; but he desarves it, he desarves it."

"I don't know so much about luck