e had ever uttered, "vengeance is ours, and we shall repay it."
The others repeated his words as before.

"Obstinate and unhappy young men," said the priest, "you know not, or
you forget, that this is blasphemy."

"This, my dear sir," observed their sister, getting still more
deadly,pale than before, "is not blasphemy, it is insanity--my three
brothers are insane; that is it. Relieve me, John," said she, recovering
herself, "and say it is so."

"If we were insane, Mary," replied her brother, calmly, "our words would
go for nothing."

"But, is it not a dreadful thing," she continued, "that I should be glad
of such an alternative?"

"Mary," said the priest, "ask them to pray; they refused to join me and
their father, perhaps you may be more successful."

"They will certainly pray," said she; "I never knew them to omit it
a night, much less refuse it. Surely they will join their poor sister
Mary, who will not long--" She hesitated from motives which the reader
can understand, but immediately knelt down to prayer.

During prayer the three brothers stood and knelt not, neither did they
speak. When prayers were concluded, she arose, and with tears in her
eyes, approached her eldest-brother.

"John," said she, "can it be that the brother of Mary M'Loughlin is an
assassin? I will answer for you," she said. "Kiss me, for I am weak and
feeble, and must go to bed."

"I cannot kiss you," he replied; "I can never kiss you more, Mary--for
it must be--done."

The tears still streamed copiously down her cheeks, as they did down
those of her father and the amiable priest. The latter, who never took
his eye off her, was praying; incessantly, as might be seen by the
motion, of his lips.

"Alick," she proceeded, turning to her second brother, "surely won't
refuse to kiss and embrace his only sister, before she withdraws for the
day."

"I cannot kiss you, my pure sister; I can never kiss you more. We have
sworn, and it must be done."

"I thought I had brothers," said she, "but I find I am now
brotherless--yet perhaps not altogether so. I had once a young,
generous, innocent, and very affectionate playfellow. It was known
that I loved him--that we all loved him best. Will he desert his loving
sister, now that the world has done so? or will he allow her to kiss,
him, and to pray that the darkness of guilt may never overshadow his
young and generous spirit. Bryan," she added, "I am Mary, your sister,
whom you loved--and surel