"Oh, Jasus!" ejaculated the captain's relict, as she sank upon a chair. "I'm murdered! Give me my salts, there. Terence O'Shaughnessy, don't touch me. I put the cross between us," and she made a crucial flourish with her hand. "You have finished me, ye villain. Holy Virgin! what sins have I committed, that I should be disgraced in my old age? Meat never crossed my lips of a Friday; I was regular at mass, and never missed confession; and, when the company were honest, played as fair as every body else. I wish I was at peace with poor dear Pat O'Finn. Oh! murder! murder!" I stared in amazement. If Roger MacGawly had been a highwayman, his daughter could not have been an object of greater horror to Mrs O'Finn. At last I mustered words to attempt to reason with her, but to my desultory appeals she returned abuse fit only for a pickpocket to receive. "Hear me, madam."--"Oh, you common _ommadawn_!"[4] "For Heaven's sake, listen!"--"Oh! that the O'Finns and the O'Shaughnessys should be disgraced by a mean-spirited _gommouge_[5] of your kind!" "You won't hear me."--"Biddy MacGawly!" she exclaimed. "Why, bad as my poor brother, your father, was--and though he too married a devil that has helped to ruin him, she was at all events a lady in her own right, and cousin-german to Lord Lowestoffe. But--you--you unfortunate disciple." I began to wax warm, for my aunt complimented me with all the abuse she could muster, and there never was a cessation but when her breath failed. "Why, what have I done? What am I about doing?" I demanded.--"Just going," returned Mrs. O'Finn, "to make a Judy Fitzsimmons mother of yourself?" "And is it," said I, "because Miss MacGawly can't count her pedigree from Fin Macoul that she should not discharge the duties of a wife?" My aunt broke in upon me. "There's one thing certain, that she'll discharge the duties of a mother. Heavens! if you had married a girl with only a _blast_,[6] your connexions might brazen it out. But a woman in such a barefaced condition!--as if her staying in the house these three months could blind the neighbours, and close their mouths." "Well, in the devil's name, will you say what objection exists to Biddy MacGawly making me a husband to-night?"--"And a papa in three months afterwards!" rejoined my loving aunt. If a shell had burst in the bivouac, I could not have been more electrified. Dark suspicions flashed across my mind--a host of circumstances confirmed my doubts; and I implored the widow of the defunct dragoon to tell me all she knew.