w, if her husband's heart could be touched at all, those points
at which she stood the greatest chance of finding it accessible.

For a few days after this the subject of Connor's love was permitted to
lie undebated, in the earnest hope that Fardorougha's heart might have
caught some slight spark of natural affection from the conversation
which had taken place between him and Honor. They waited, consequently,
with patience for some manifestation on his part of a better feeling,
and flattered themselves that his silence proceeded from the struggle
which they knew a man of his disposition must necessarily feel in
working up his mind to any act requiring him to part with that which
he loved better than life, his money. The ardent temperament of Connor,
however, could ill brook the pulseless indifference of the old man; with
much difficulty, therefore, was he induced to wait a whole week for the
issue, though sustained by the mother's assurance, that, in consequence
of the impression left on her by their last conversation, she was
certain the father, if not urged beyond his wish, would declare himself
willing to provide for them. A week, however, elapsed, and Fardorougha
moved on in the same hard and insensible spirit which was usual to him,
wholly engrossed by money, and never, either directly or indirectly,
appearing to remember that the happiness and welfare of his son were at
stake, or depending upon the determination to which he might come.

Another half week passed, during which Connor had made two unsuccessful
attempts to see Una, in order that some fixed plan of intercourse
might be established between them, at least until his father's ultimate
resolution on the subject proposed to him should be known. He now felt
deeply distressed, and regretted that the ardor of his attachment had so
far borne him away during their last meeting, that he had forgotten to
concert measures with Una for their future interviews.

He had often watched about her father's premises from a little before
twilight until the whole family had gone to bed, yet without any chance
either of conversing with her, or of letting her know that he was in the
neighborhood. He had gone to chapel, too, with the hope of seeing
her, or snatching a hasty opportunity of exchanging a word or two, if
possible; but to his astonishment she had not attended mass--an omission
of duty of which she had not been guilty for the last three years. What,
therefore, was to