s within my power, Una darling, I'll grant it; and if it's not,
it'll go hard with me but I'll bring it within my power. What is it,
asthore machree?"

"In case he's found guilty, to let John put off his journey to Maynooth,
and stay with me for some time--it won't be long I'll keep him."

"If it pleases you, darling, he'll never put his foot into Maynooth
again."

"No," said the mother, "dhamnho to the step, if you don't wish him."

"Oh, no, no," said Una, "it's only for a while."

"Unless she desires it, I will never go," replied the loving brother;
"nor will I ever leave you in your sorrow, my beloved and only
sister--never--never--so long as a word from my lips can give you
consolation."

The warm tears coursed each other down his cheeks as he spoke, and both
his parents, on looking at the almost blighted flower before them, wept
as if the hand of death had already been upon her.

"Father, and John are going to his trial," she observed; "for me I like
to be alone;--alone; but when you return to-night, let John break it to
me. I'll go now to the garden. I'll walk about to-day--only before you
go, John, I want to speak to you."

Calmly and without a tear, she then left the parlor, and proceeded
to the garden, where she began to dress and ornament the hive which
contained the swarm that Connor had brought to her on the day their
mutual attachment was first disclosed to each other.

"Father," said John, when she had gone, "I'm afraid that Una's heart
is broken, or if not broken, that she won't survive his conviction
long--it's breaking fast--for my part, in her present state, I neither
will nor can leave her."

The affectionate father made no reply, but, putting his handkerchief to
his eyes, wept, as did her mother, in silent but bitter grief.

"I cannot spake about it, nor think of it, John," said he, after some
time, "but we must do what we can for her."

"If anything happens her," said the mother, "I'd never get over it. Oh
marciful Savior! how could we live widout her?"

"I would rather see her in tears," said John--"I would rather see her
in outrageous grief a thousand times than in the calm but ghastly
resolution with which she is bearing herself up against the trial of
this day. If he's condemned to death, I'm afraid that either her health
or reason will sink under it, and, in that case, God pity her and us,
for how, as you say, mother, could we afford to lose her? Still let us
hope for the best.