be done? For him to be detected lurking about the
Bodagh's house might create suspicion, especially after their interview
in the garden, which very probably had, through the officiousness of
the servants, been communicated to her parents. In a matter of such
difficulty he bethought him of a confidant, and the person to whom the
necessity of the ease directed him was Bartle Flanagan. Bartle, indeed,
ever since he entered into his father's service, had gained rapidly upon
Connor's good will, and on one or two occasions well-nigh succeeded
in drawing from him a history of the mutual attachment which subsisted
between him and Una. His good humor, easy language, and apparent
friendship for young O'Donovan, together with his natural readiness of
address, or, if you will, of manner, all marked him out as admirably
qualified to act as a confidant in a matter which required the very tact
and talent he possessed.

"Poor fellow," thought Connor to himself, "it will make him feel more
like one of the family than a servant. If he can think that he's trated
as my friend and companion, he may forget that he's ating the bread of
the very man that drove him an' his to destruction. Ay, an' if we're
married, I'm not sure but I'll have him to give me away too."

This resolution of permitting Flanagan to share his confidence had been
come to by Connor upon the day subsequent to that on which he had last
tried to see Una. After his return home, disappointment on one hand, and
his anxiety concerning his father's liberality on the other, together
with the delight arising from the certainty of being beloved, all kept
his mind in a tumult, and permitted him to sleep but little. The next
day he decided on admitting Bartle to his confidence, and reposing this
solemn trust to his integrity. He was lying on his back in the
meadow--for they had been ricking the hay from the lapcocks--when that
delicious languor which arises from the three greatest provocatives to
slumber, want of rest, fatigue, and heat, so utterly overcame him, that,
forgetting his love, and all the anxiety arising from it, he fell into a
dreamless and profound sleep.

From this state he was aroused after about an hour by the pressure of
something sharp and painful against his side, near the region of the
heart, and on looking up, he discovered Bartle Flanagan standing over
him with pitchfork in his hand, one end of which was pressed against
his breast, as if he had been in the a