friends observed
that he appeared like a man whose mind was occupied by something that
occasioned him to feel deep anxiety. What the cause of this secret care
was, he did not disclose to anyone except his father, to whom, in a few
days afterwards, he mentioned it. His college vacation had now
nearly expired; but it was mutually agreed upon, in the course of the
communication he then made, that for the present he should remain with
them at home, and postpone his return to Maynooth, if not abandon the
notion of the priesthood altogether. When the Bodagh left his son, after
this dialogue, his open, good-humored countenance seemed clouded,
his brow thoughtful, and his whole manner that of a man who has heard
something more than usually unpleasant; but, whatever this intelligence
was, he, too, appeared equally studious to conceal it. The day now
arrived on which Connor O'Donovan was to see his other parent for the
last time, and this interview he dreaded, on the old man's account, more
than he had done even the separation from his mother. Our readers may
judge, therefore, of his surprise on finding that his father exhibited
a want of sorrow or of common feeling that absolutely amounted almost to
indifference.

Connor felt it difficult to account for a change so singular and
extraordinary in one with whose affection for himself he was so well
acquainted. A little time, however, and an odd hint or two thrown out
in the early part of their conversation, soon enabled him to perceive,
either that the old man labored under some strange hallucination, or had
discovered a secret source of comfort known only to himself. At
length, it appeared to the son that he had discovered the cause of this
unaccountable change in the conduct of his father; and, we need scarcely
assure our readers, that his heart sank into new and deeper distress at
the words from which he drew the inference.

"Connor," said the miser, "I had great luck yestherday. You remember
Antony Cusack, that ran away from me wid seventy-three pounds fifteen
shillin's an' nine pence, now betther than nine years ago. Many a curse
he had from me for his roguery; but somehow, it seems he only thruv
under them. His son Andy called on me yestherday mornin' an' paid me to
the last farden, inthrest an' all. Wasn't I in luck?"

"It was very fortunate, father, an' I'm glad of it"

"It was, indeed, the hoighth o' luck. Now, Connor, you think one thing,
an' that is, that; we're part