"It's my opinion, Fardorougha, you don't love the child."

"Change that opinion, then, Honora; I do love the child; but there's no
needcessity for blowin it about to every one I meet. If I didn't love
him, I wouldn't feel as I do about all the hardships that may be before
him. Think of what a bad sason, or a failure of the craps, might bring
us all to. God grant that we mayn't come to the bag and staff before
he's settled in the world at all, poor thing."

"Oh, very well, Fardorougha; you may make yourself as unhappy as you
like; for me, I'll put my trust in the Saviour of the world for my
child. If you can trust in any one better than God, do so."

"Honora, there's no use in this talk--it'll do nothing aither for him or
us--besides, I have no more time to discoorse about it."

He then left her; but, as she viewed his dark, inflexible features
ere he went, an oppressive sense of something not far removed from
affliction weighed her down. The child had been asleep in her arms
during the foregoing dialogue, and, after his father had departed, she
placed him in the cradle, and, throwing the corner of her blue apron
over her shoulder, she rocked him into a sounder sleep, swaying herself
at the same time to and fro, with that inward sorrow, of which, among
the lower classes of Irish females, this motion is uniformly expressive.
It is not to be supposed, however, that, as the early graces of
childhood gradually expanded (as they did) into more than ordinary
beauty, the avarice of the father was not occasionally encountered in
its progress by! sudden gushes of love for his son. It was impossible
for any parent, no matter how strongly strongly the hideous idol
of mammon might sway his heart, to look upon a creature so fair
and beautiful, without being frequently touched into something like
affection. The fact was, that, as the child advanced towards youth, the
two principles we are describing nearly kept pace one with the other.
That the bad and formidable passion made rapid strides, must be
admitted, but that it engrossed the whole spirit of the father, is
not true. The mind and gentle character of the boy--his affectionate
disposition, and the extraordinary advantages of his person--could not
fail sometimes to surprise his father into sudden bursts of affection.
But these, when they occurred, were looked upon by Fardorougha as so
many proofs that he still entertained for the boy love sufficient to
justify a more intense d