the cheeks of the old man, who staggered over to the
ledge whereon they sat, and placed himself beside them.

"God of Heaven!" said he, with astonishment, "can this be thrue?"

"Now that you know what you do know," said Dalton, "we'll thank you to
drop the subject."

"Well, I will," said he; "but first, for Heaven's sake, answer me a
question or two. What's your name, avick?"

"Condy Dalton."

"Ay, Condy Dalton!--the Lord be about us! An' Sullivan--Sullivan was the
name of the man that was murdhered, you say?"

"Yes, Bartley Sullivan--God rest him!"

"An' whisper--tell me--God presarve us!--was there anything done to your
father, avick? What was done to him?"

"Why, he was taken up on suspicion soon afther it happened;
but--but--there was nothing done: they had no proof against him, an' he
was let go again."

"Is your father alive still?"

"He is livin'," replied Dalton; "but come--pass on, ould man," he added,
bitterly; "I'll give you no more information."

"Well, thank you, dear," said the pedlar; "I ax your pardon for givin'
you pain--an' the colleen here--ay, you're a Sullivan, then--an' a purty
but sorrowful lookin' crature your are, God knows. Poor things! God pity
you both an' grant you a betther fate than what appears to be before
you! for I did hear a thrifle of your discoorse."

There was something singularly benevolent and kind in the old pedlar's
voice, as he uttered the last words, and he had not gone many perches
from the stone, when Dalton's heart relented as he reflected on his
harsh and unfriendly demeanor towards him.

"That is a good ould man," he observed, "and I am now sorry that I spoke
to him so roughly--there was kindness in his voice and in his eye as he
looked upon us."

"There was," replied Mave, "and I think him a good ould man too. I don't
think he would harm any one."

"Dear Mave," said Dalton, "I must now get home as soon as I can; I don't
feel so well as I was--there is a chill upon me, and I'm afeared I won't
have a comfortable night."

"And I can do nothing for you!" added Mave, her eyes filling with tears.

"I didn't thank you for that lock of hair you sent me by Donnel Dhu," he
added. "It is here upon my heart, and I needn't say that if anything had
happened me, or if anything should happen me, it an' that heart must go
to dust together."

"You are too much cast down," she replied, her tears flowing fast, "an'
it can't surely be otherwise; but, dear Con, let us