do it!) Fardorougha."

He rose and proceeded to his sleeping--place in the barn, whither
Connor, who was struck by his manner, accompanied him.

"Bartle," said O'Donovan, "did you take anything since I saw you last?"

"Only a share of two naggins wid my brother Antony at Peggy Finigan's."

"I noticed it upon you," observed Connor; "but I don't think they did."

"An' if they did, too, it's not high thrason, I hope."

"No; but, Bartle, I'm obliged to you. You've acted as a friend to me,
an' I won't forget it to you."

"An' I'm so much obliged to you, Connor, that I'll remimber your
employin' me in this the longest day I have to live. But, Connor?"

"Well, Bartle."

"I'd take the sacrament, that, after all, a ring you'll never put on
her."

"And what makes you think so, Bartle?"

"I don't--I do--(hiccup) don't know; but somehow something or another
tells it to me that you won't; others is fond of her, I suppose, as well
as yourself; and of coorse they'll stand betune you."

"Ay, but I'm sure of her."

"But you're not; wait till I see you man and wife, an' thin I'll say so.
Here's myself, Bartle, is in love, an' dhough I don't expect ever the
girl will or would marry me, be the crass of heaven, no other man will
have her. Now, how do you know but you may have some one like me--like
me, Connor, to stand against you?"

"Bartle," said Connor, laughing, "your head's a little moidher'd; give
me your hand; whish! the devil take you, man! don't wring my fingers
off. Say your prayers, Bartle, an' go to sleep. I say agin I won't
forget your kindness to me this night."

Flanagan had now deposited himself upon his straw bed, and, after having
tugged the bedclothes about him, said, in the relaxed, indolent voice of
a man about to sleep,

"Good night, Connor; throth my head's a little soft to-night--good
night."

"Good night, Bartle."

"Connor?"

"Well?"

"Didn't I stand to you to-night? Very well--goo--(hiccup) good night."

On Connor's return, a serious conclave was held upon the best mode of
procedure in a manner which presented difficulties that appeared to be
insurmountable. The father, seizing upon the advice transmitted by Una
herself, as that which he had already suggested, insisted that the most
judicious course was to propose for her openly, and without appearing to
feel that there was any inferiority on the part of Connor.

"If they talk about wealth, Connor," said he, "say that you are my son,
an