bled, as we have said, to
look back upon her conduct, and to judge, of her lover through the more
softened medium of her reviving affection. This feeling gained upon her
slowly but surely, until her conscience became, alarmed at the excess
of her own severity towards him. Still, however, she would occasionally
return, as it were, to a contemplation of his delinquency, and endeavor,
from an unconscious principle of self-love, to work herself up into that
lofty hatred of dishonor which had prompted his condemnation; but the
effort was in vain. Every successive review of his guilt was attended
by a consciousness that she had been righteous overmuch, and that the
consequences of his treason, even against their common religion, were
not only rapidly diminishing in her heart, but yielding to something
that very nearly resembled remorse.

Such was the state of her feelings on the day when Kate Hogan and her
male relatives indulged in the friendly and affectionate dialogue we
have just detailed. Her heart was smitten, in fact, with sorrow for the
harsh part she had taken against her lover, and she only waited for
an opportunity to pour out a full confession of all she felt into the
friendly ear of her sister.

Gerald Cavanagh's family at this period was darkened by a general spirit
of depression and gloom. Their brother James, from whatever cause it may
have proceeded, seemed to be nearly as much cast down as his sister; and
were it not that Cavanagh himself and his wife sustained themselves by a
hope that Kathleen might ultimately relax so far as to admit, as she had
partly promised to do, the proposals of Edward Burke, it would have
been difficult to find so much suffering apart from death under the same
roof.

On the day in question, our friend O'Finigan, whose habits of
intemperance had by no means diminished, called at Cavanagh's, as he had
been in the habit of doing. Poor Kathleen was now suffering, besides,
under the consequences of the injunction not to mention M'Mahon's name,
which she had imposed upon her own family--an injunction which they had
ever since faithfully observed. It was quite evident from the unusually
easy fluency of O'Finigan's manner, that he had not confined his
beverages, during the day, to mere water. Hanna, on seeing him enter,
said to Kathleen, in a whisper,--

"Hadn't you better come out and take a walk, Kathleen? This O'Finigan is
almost tipsy, and you know he'll be talking about certain su