fused to meet
this usual exponent of good will.

"Well, Gerald," said M'Mahon, smiling, "I see you go with the world
too; but, since you won't shake hands with me, allow me to ask your
business."

"To deliver a message to you from my daughter, and she'd not allow me to
deliver it to any one but yourself. I came three times to see you before
your sickness, but I didn't find jou at home."

"What's the message, Gerald?"

"The message, Bryan, is--that you are never to spake to her, nor will
she ever more name your name. She will never be your wife; for she says
that the heart that forgets its duty to God, and the hand that has been
soiled by a bribe, can never be anything to her but the cause of shame
and sorrow; and she bids me say that her happiness is gone and her heart
broken. Now, farewell, and think of the girl you have lost by disgracin'
your religion and your name."

Bryan paused for a moment, as if irresolute how to act, and exchanged
glances with his high-minded little sister.

"Tell Kathleen, from me," said the latter, "that if she had a little
more feeling, and a little less pride or religion, I don't know which,
she'd be more of a woman and less of a saint. My brother, tell her, has
disgraced neither his religion nor his name, and that he has too much of
the pride of an injured man to give back any answer to sich a message.
That's my answer, and not his, and you may ask her if it's either
religion or common justice that makes her condemn him she loved without
a hearing? Goodbye, now, Gerald; give my love to Hanna, and tell her
she's worth a ship-load of her stately sister."

Bryan remained silent. In fact, he felt so completely overwhelmed that
he was incapable of uttering a syllable. On seeing Cavanagh return, he
was about to speak, when he looked upon the glowing cheeks, flashing
eyes, and panting bosom of his heroic little sister.

"You are right, my darling Dora. I must be proud on receiving such a
message. Kathleen has done me injustice, and I must be proud in my own
defence."

The full burthen of this day's care, however, had not been yet laid upon
him. On returning home, he heard from one of his laborers that a notice
to quit his farm of Ahadarra had been left at his house. This, after
the heavy sums of money which he had expended in its improvement and
reclamation, was a bitter addition to what he was forced to suffer. On
hearing of this last circumstance, and after perusing the notice which