open, an' contrary to his conscience--ay,
an' to his solemn promise to myself; for I'll tell you now what I never
mentioned before, that I put him on his guard against doing so; and he
knew that if he did, all would and must be over between him and me."

"Is that true, Kathleen?" said Hanna with surprise; "but why need I ask
you such a question--it's enough that you say it--in that case then I
give him up at last; but who, oh, who could a' believed it?"

"But that is not all," continued Kathleen, in the same mournful and
resigned tone of voice--"there's the bribe--didn't hundreds hear him
acknowledge publicly in the chapel that he got it? What more is wanting?
How could I ever respect a man that has proved himself to be without
either honesty or principle? and why should it happen, that the man who
has so openly and so knowingly disgraced his religion and his name fall
to my lot? Oh, no--it matters little how I love him, and I grant that in
spite of all that has happened I have a lingering affection for him
even yet; still I don't think that affection will live long--I can now
neither respect or esteem him, an' when that is the case I can't surely
continue long to love him. I know," she proceeded, "that it's not
possible for him ever to clear himself of this shocking and shameful
conduct; but lest there might be any chance of it, I now say before you
all, that if something doesn't come about within three months, that may
and ought to change my feelings towards him, I'll live afterwards as if
I had never known him."

"Mightn't you see him, however, an' hear what he has to say for
himself?" asked Hanna.

"No," the other replied; "he heard my message, and was silent. You may
rest assured if he had anything to say in his own defence, he would
have said it, or asked to see me. Oh, no, no, because I feel that he's
defenceless."

In this peculiar state of circumstances our readers need not feel
surprised that every possible agency was employed to urge her beyond the
declaration she had made, and to induce her to receive the addresses of
Edward Burke. Her own parents, old Jemmy Burke, the whole body of her
relatives, each in turn, and sometimes several of them together, added
to which we may mention the parish priest, who was called in by both
families, or at least by old Jemmy Burke and the Cavanaghs--all we say
perpetually assailed her on the subject of a union with Edward Burke,
and assailed her so pertinaciously, that