and then I won't have Mrs. McKeon cocking over me
that she made up the match."

"There's little danger of that kind, I fear, Feemy, nor would she be
doing so; but if you are actually going to speak to Captain Ussher
yourself to-night, I'll say no more about it now; but I hope you'll
tell Thady to-morrow what passes."

"Oh, Father John, I won't promise that."

"Will you tell me, then, or Mrs. McKeon?"

"Oh, perhaps I'll be telling you, you know, when I come down to
confession at Christmas; but indeed I shan't be telling Mrs. McKeon
anything about it, to go talking over the counthry."

"Then, Feemy, I may as well tell you at once--if you will not trust
to me, to your brother, or any friend who may be able to protect you
from insult--nor prevail on your lover to come forward in a decent
and respectable way, and avow his purpose--it will become your
brother's duty to tell him that his visits can no longer be allowed
at Ballycloran."

"Ballycloran doesn't belong to Thady, and he can't tell him not to
come."

"That's not well said of you, Feemy; for you know your father is
not capable of interfering in this business; but if, as under those
circumstances he will do, Thady quietly and firmly desires Captain
Ussher to stay away from Ballycloran, I think he'll not venture to
come here. If he does, there are those who will still interfere to
prevent him."

"And if among you all, that are so set up against him because he's
not one of your own set, you dhrive him out of Ballycloran, I can
tell you, I'll not remain in it!"

"Then your sins and your sorrows must be on your own head!"

And without saying anything further, Father John took his hat, and
walked off. Feemy snatched her novel into her lap, to show how little
what was said impressed her, and resumed her attitude over the fire.
But she didn't read; her spirit was stubborn and wouldn't bend, but
her reason and her conscience were touched by what the priest had
said to her, and the bitter thought for the first time came over
her, that her lover, perhaps, was not so true to her, as she to him.
There she sat, sorrowfully musing; and though she did not repent of
what she thought her own firmness, she was bitterly tormented by
the doubts with which her brother, Mary Brady, and the priest, had
gradually disturbed her happiness.

She loved Ussher as well as ever--yes, almost more than ever, as the
idea that she might perhaps lose him came across her--but she began
to