“God knows, darlin',” exclaimed the Bodagh's warm--hearted wife, now melting into tears herself, “it's no wondher you should cry tears of joy for this. God wouldn't be above us, a cushla oge machree, or he'd sind brighter days before your young and innocent heart.” Una could not speak, but wept on; the grief she felt, however, became gradually milder in its character, until at length her violent sobbings were hushed; and, although the tears still flowed, they flowed in silence. “We will have him back, sartinly,” said the Bodagh; “don't cry, dear, we'll have him here again with no disateful villain to swear away his life.” “I could die now,” said the noble--minded girl; “I think I could die now, without even seeing him. His name is cleared, and will be cleared; his character untainted; and that is dearer to me even than his love. Oh, I knew it! I knew it!” she fervently exclaimed; “and when all the world was against him, I was for him; I and his own mother--for we were the two that knew his heart best.” “Well,” said John, smiling, “if I brought you gloomy news once, I believe I have brought you pleasant news twice. You remember when I told you he was not to die.” “Indeed, John, dear, you are the best brother that ever God blessed a sister with; but I hope this is not a dream. Oh, can it be possible! and when I awake in the morning, will it be to the sorrowful heart I had yesterday? I am bewildered. After this, who should ever despair of the goodness of God, or think that the trial he sends but for a time is to last always?” “Bridget,” said the gracious Bodagh, “we must have a glass of punch; an' upon my reputaytion, Oona, we'll drink to his speedy return.” “Throth, an' Oona will take a glass, herself, this night,” added her mother; “an' thanks be to Goodness she'll be our colleen dhas dhun again--won't you have a glass, asthore machree?” “I'll do anything that any of you wishes me, mother,” replied Una. She gave, as she uttered the words, a slight sob, which turned their attention once more to her, but they saw at once, by the brilliant sparkle of her eyes, that it was occasioned by the unexpected influx of delight and happiness which was accumulating around her heart. “Mother,” she said, “will you make the punch for them to--night? I cannot rest till I let poor Biddy Kulty know what has happened. Cleared!” she added, exultingly, “his name and character cleared!” The beautiful girl then left the room, and, short as was the space which had elapsed since she heard her brother's communication, they could not help being struck at the light elastic step with which she tripped out of it. Brief, however, as the period was, she had time to cast aside the burthen of care which had pressed her down and changed her easy pace to the slow tread of sorrow. “God help our poor colleen dhas,” exclaimed her mother, “but she's the happy creature, this night!”