“It's a charity it will be,” said Nogher, shrewdly availing himself of the commotion he had created, “to stop the vagabone short in the coorse of his villany. He'll surely bring the darlin' young girl off, an' destroy her.” For a few moments he felt as if his heart were disposed to rebel against the common ordinances of Providence, as they appeared to be manifested in his own punishment, and the successful villainy of Bartle Flanagan. The reflection, however, of a strong and naturally pious mind soon enabled him to perceive the errors into which his passions would lead him, if not restrained and subjected. He made an effort to be calm, and in a considerable degree succeeded. “Nogher,” said he, “let us not forget that this Bartle--this--but I will not say it--let us not forget that God can asily turn his plans against himself. To God, then, let us lave him. Now, hear me--you must swear in His presence that you will have neither act nor part in doing him an injury--that you will not shed his blood, nor allow it to be shed by others, as far as you can prevent it.” Nogher rubbed his chin gravely, and almost smiled at what he considered to be a piece of silly nonsense on the part of Connor. He determined, therefore, to satisfy his scruples as well as he could; but, let the consequence be what it might, to evade such an oath. “Why, Connor,” said he, “surely, if you go to that, we can have no ill-will against the d--n villain; an' as you don't wish it, we'll dhrop--the thing; so now make your mind aisy, for another word you or any one else won't ever hear about it.” “And you won't injure the man?” “Hut! no,” replied Nogher, with a gravity whose irony was barely perceptible, “what would we murdher him for, now that you don't wish it? I never had any particular wish to see my own funeral.” “And, Nogher, you will do all you can to prevent him from being murdhered?” “To be sure, Connor--to be sure. By He that made me, we won't give pain to a single hair of his head. Are you satisfied now?” “I am,” replied the ingenuous young man, who was himself too candid to see through the sophistry of Nogher's oath. “And now, Nogher,” he replied, “many a day have we spent together--you are one of my oldest friends. I suppose this is the last time you will ever see Connor O.'Donovan; however, don't, man--don't be cast down; you will hear from me, I hope, and hear that I am well too.” He uttered this with a smile which cost him an effort; for, on looking into the face of his faithful old friend, he saw his muscles working under the influence of strong feeling--or, I should rather say, deep sorrow--which he felt anxious, by a show of cheerfulness, to remove. The fountains, however, of the old servant's heart were opened, and, after some ineffectual attempts to repress his grief, he fell upon Connor's neck, and wept aloud.