lected that it would be a dreadful
thing for her to tell her father and the servants, and to be called
on to explain why her brother was away; having made this resolution
he walked again up to the house.

He pushed the door open, and at once went into his sister's room.
Here she was still lying on the sofa, and Katty was sitting beside
her--begging her mistress to tell her what was the matter. But Feemy
had not spoken since she had been there; she had recovered her
senses, for she held her hands before her eyes, and the tears were
falling fast beneath them: but she had not spoken a word to Katty
since her brother had placed her on the sofa.

When he entered the room she uncovered her eyes for a moment; but
as soon as she saw him she buried her face in the pillow, and it
was plain from her sobbing that she was crying more violently than
before.

Thady walked up to the sofa, and as he did so the girl got up.

"Go out, Katty," said he, "I want to spake a word to your misthress,
but be in the kitchen; I'll call you when I've done."

She retreated,--not, however, farther than the door, which she
closed, and left the brother and sister together. The last time they
had been so in that room--the last time the two had conversed alone
together before, was when Thady cautioned his sister against the man
he just now killed; he thought of this, but he was too generous to
let the reflection dwell on his mind at such a moment.

"Feemy," he said, as he attempted to take his sister's hand--which,
however, she violently drew back from him--"Feemy, I'm going to lave
you a long time, and I must spake to you first,--perhaps the last
words I'll ever be able to say to you at all. Feemy darling, won't
you listen to me then?--eh, Feemy?"

Feemy, however, only buried her head further in the sofa, and did not
answer him a word.

"I must spake a word to you," continued Thady, "about him that is
now--him that was with you on the avenue. I told you, Feemy, he was
dead, and what I told you then was only too true. God knows when I
struck him I did not wish for that; but how was I to see him with you
in his arms--carrying you off through the dark night, and from your
own house, without raising my stick to strike him? I don't say this
to be blaming you now, and I don't ask you to tell me why you were
there; but you must know, dearest, that it was for your sake I raised
my hand; and though the blow I struck has killed him you loved,
you should