her arms, and fising up approached her husband, and throwing them about
his neck, exclaimed, in tones of the most penetrating grief,--

"O, Torley, Torley, my husband, was she not our dearest and our best?"

The husband embraced her with a flood of tears.

"She was," said he, "she was." But immediately looking upon her sister
Dora, he said, "Dora, come here--bring Dora to me," and his wife went
over and brought her to him.

"O, Dora dear," said he, "I love you. But, darling, I never loved you as
I loved her."

"But was I ever jealous of that, father?" replied Dora, with tears.
"Didn't we all love her? and did any one of you love her more than
myself? Wasn't she the pride of the whole family? But I didn't care
about her disgrace, father, if we had her back with us. She might
repent; and if she did, every one would forgive their favorite--for sure
she was every one's favorite; and above all, God would forgive her."

"I loved her as the core of my heart," said the grandmother; "but
you spoiled her yourselves, and indulged her too much in dress and
everything she wished for. Had you given her less of her own way, and
kept her more from dances and merry-makings, it might be better for
yourselves and her today; still, I grant you, it was hard to do it--for
who, mavrone, could refuse her anything? O! God sees my heart how I pity
you, her father, and you, too, her mother, above all. But, Torley, dear,
if we only had her--if we only had her back again safe with us--then
what darling Dora says might be true, and her repentance would wash
away her shame--for every one loved her, so that they wouldn't judge her
harshly."

"I can bear witness to that," said Barney; as it is, every one pities
her, and but very few blame her. It is all set down to her innocence and
want of experience, ay, and her youthful years. No; if you could only
find her, the shame in regard of what I've said would not be laid
heavily upon her by the people."

"O," exclaimed her father, starting up, "O, Granua, Granua, my heart's
life! where are you from us? Was not your voice the music of our hearth?
Did not your light laugh keep it cheerful and happy? But where are you
now? O, will no one bring me back my daughter? Where is my child? she
that was the light--the breakin' of the summer mornin' amongst us! But
wait; they say the villain is recoverin' that destroyed her--well--he
may recover from the blow of Shawn-na-Middogue, but he will get a blow
from