says he; 'what do ye want with me?' ''Tis a bit of a note I've
for yer honner,' says I; and I gav him the paper. He tuck it and opened
it; but troth it was little matter there was no writin' in it, for he
would'nt have lived to read it through. I sent the ball through his
heart, as near as I stand to ye; the wadding was burning his waistcoat
when I left him. 'God save you!' says the men, as I went across the
potato-field. 'Save you kindly!' says I. 'Was that a shot we heard?'
says another. 'Yes,' says I; 'I was fright'ning the crows;' and sorra
bit, but that's a saying they have against me ever since." These last
few words were said in a simper of modesty, which, whether real or
affected, was a strange sentiment at the conclusion of such a tale.

The party soon after separated, not to meet again for several nights;
for the news of Lucas's death would of course be the signal for a
general search through the country, and the most active measures to
trace the murderer. It behoved them, then, to be more than usually
careful not to be absent from their homes and their daily duties for
some days at least: after which they could assemble in safety as before.

Grief has been known to change the hair to grey in a single night; the
announcement of a sudden misfortune has palsied the hand that held the
ill-omened letter; but I question if the hours that are passed before
the commission of a great crime, planned and meditated beforehand,
do not work more fearful devastation on the human heart, than all the
sorrows that ever crushed humanity. Ere night came, Owen Connor seemed
to have grown years older. In the tortured doublings of his harassed
mind he appeared to have spent almost a lifetime since the sun last
rose. He had passed in review before him each phase of his former
existence, from childhood--free, careless, and happy childhood--to days
of boyish sport and revelry; then came the period of his first manhood,
with its new ambitions and hopes. He thought of these, and how, amid the
humble circumstances of his lowly fortune, he was happy. What would he
have thought of him who should predict such a future as this for him?
How could he have believed it? And yet the worst of all remained to
come. He tried to rally his courage and steel his heart, by repeating
over the phrases so frequent among his companions. "Sure, aint I driven
to it? is it my fault if I take to this, or theirs that compelled me?"
and such like. But these words