ever it went into your hands, sir, whatever became of it
after; and will swear to it, too.'

'Swear away, my good friend; much your swearing will avail in your own
case in a court of justice,' continued old Nick.

'And against a gentleman of my brother's established character and
property,' said St. Dennis. 'What's your mother's character against a
gentleman's like his?'

'Character! take care how you go to that, anyway, sir,' cried Brian.

Grace put her hand before his mouth, to stop him. 'Grace, dear, I must
speak, if I die for it; sure it's for my mother,' said the young man,
struggling forward, while his mother held him back; 'I must speak.'

'Oh, he's ruin'd, I see it,' said Grace, putting her hand before her
eyes, 'and he won't mind me.'

'Go on, let him go on, pray, young woman,' said Mr. Garraghty, pale with
anger and fear, his lips quivering; 'I shall be happy to take down his
words.'

'Write them; and may all the world read it, and welcome!' His mother and
wife stopped his mouth by force.

'Write you, Dennis,' said Mr. Garraghty, giving the pen to his brother;
for his hand shook so he could not form a letter. 'Write the very words,
and at the top' (pointing) after warning, WITH MALICE PREPENSE.'

'Write, then--mother, Grace--let me,' cried Brian, speaking in a
smothered voice, as their hands were over his mouth. 'Write then, that,
if you'd either of you a character like my mother, you might defy the
world; and your word would be as good as your oath.'

'OATH! mind that, Dennis,' said Mr. Garraghty.

'Oh, sir! sir! won't you stop him?' cried Grace, turning suddenly to
Lord Colambre.

'Oh dear, dear, if you haven't lost your feeling for us,' cried the
widow.

'Let him speak,' said Lord Colambre, in a tone of authority; 'let the
voice of truth be heard.'

'TRUTH!' cried St. Dennis, and dropped the pen.

'And who the devil are you, sir?' said old Nick.

'Lord Colambre, I protest!' exclaimed a female voice; and Mrs. Raffarty
at this instant appeared at the open door.

'Lord Colambre!' repeated all present, in different tones.

'My lord, I beg pardon;' continued Mrs. Raffarty, advancing as if
her legs were tied; 'had I known you was down here, I would not have
presumed. I'd better retire; for I see you're busy.'

'You'd best; for you're mad, sister,' said St. Dennis, pushing her back;
'and we are busy; go to your room, and keep quiet, if you can.'

'First, madam,' said Lord Colambre, going