f the
young lord.

"I will have his heart out of his body," exclaimed Mrs. O'Hara.

"Heart;--he has no heart. You may touch his pocket;--or his pride,
what he calls his pride, a damnable devilish inhuman vanity; or his
name,--that bugbear of a title by which he trusts to cover his baseness;
or his skin, for he is a coward. Do you see his cheek now? But as for
his heart,--you cannot get at that."

"I will get at his life," said the woman.

"Mr. Marty, you allow yourself a liberty of speech which even your
priesthood will not warrant."

"Lay a hand upon me if you can. There is not blood enough about you to
do it. Were it not that the poor child has been wake and too trusting, I
would bid her spit on you rather than take you for her husband." Then he
paused, but only for a moment. "Sir, you must marry her, and there must
be an end of it. In no other way can you be allowed to live."

"Would you murder me?"

"I would crush you like an insect beneath my nail. Murder you! Have you
thought what murder is;--that there are more ways of murder than one?
Have you thought of the life of that young girl who now bears in her
womb the fruit of your body? Would you murder her,--because she loved
you, and trusted you, and gave you all simply because you asked her; and
then think of your own life? As the God of Heaven is above me, and sees
me now, and the Saviour in whose blood I trust, I would lay down my life
this instant, if I could save her from your heartlessness." So saying he
too turned away his face and wept like a child.

After this the priest was gentler in his manner to the young man, and
it almost seemed as though the Earl was driven from his decision. He
ceased, at any rate, to assert that Kate should never be Countess of
Scroope, and allowed both the mother and Father Marty to fall into a
state of doubt as to what his last resolve might be. It was decided that
he should go down to Ennistimon and sleep upon it. On the morrow he
would come up again, and in the meantime he would see Father Marty at
the inn. There were many prayers addressed to him both by the mother and
the priest, and such arguments used that he had been almost shaken. "But
you will come to-morrow?" said the mother, looking at the priest as she
spoke.

"I will certainly come to-morrow."

"No doubt he will come to-morrow," said Father Marty,--who intended
to imply that if Lord Scroope escaped out of Ennistimon without his
knowledge, he would be ver