nor,
avick, what will I do? Honor, achora, what 'ill become o' me--ainn't I
strugglin', strugglin' against it, whatever it is; don't yees pity me?
Don't ye, avick machree, don't ye, Honor? Oh, don't yees pity me?"

"God pity you!" said the wife, bursting into tears; "what will become of
you? Pray to God, Fardorougha, pray to Him. No one alive can change your
heart but God. I wint to the priest to-day, to get two masses said to
turn your heart from that cursed money. I didn't intind to tell you, but
I do, bekase it's your duty to pray now above all times, an' to back the
priest as well as you can."

"It's the best advice, father, you could get," said the son, as he
helped the trembling old man to his seat.

"An' who bid you thin to go to lavish money that way?" said he, turning
snappishly to Honor, and relapsing again into the peevish spirit of
avarice; "Saver o' Heaven, but you'll kill me, woman, afore you have
done wid me! How can I stand it, to have my hard--earned----an' for
what? to turn my heart from money? I don't want to be turned from it--I
don't wish it! Money!--I have no money--nothin'--nothin'--an' if there's
not better decreed for me, I'll be starved yet--an' is it any wondh'er?
to be robbin' me the way you're doin'!"

His wife clasped her hands and looked up towards heaven in silence, and
Connor, shaking his head despairingly, passed out to join Flanagan at
his labor, with whom he had not spoken that day. Briefly, and with
a heavy heart, he communicated to him the unsuccessful issue of his
father's interference, and asked his opinion as to how he should
conduct himself under circumstances so disastrous to his happiness and
prospects. Bartle advised him to seek another interview with Una, and,
for that purpose, offered, as before, to ascertain, in the course of
that evening, at what time and place she would see him. This suggestion,
in itself so natural, was adopted, and as Connor felt, with a peculiar
acuteness, the pain of the situation in which he was! placed, he
manifested little tendency to conversation, and the evening consequently
passed heavily and in silence.

Dusk, however, arrived, and Bartle prepared himself to execute the
somewhat difficult commission he had so obligingly undertaken. He
appeared, however, to have caught a portion of Connor's despondency,
for, when about to set out, he said "that he felt his spirits sunk and
melancholy; just," he added, "as if some misfortune, Connor, was af