“Now,” said young O'Brien, when they got into the back parlor, “it's right that you both should know to what length the courtship between Una and Connor O'Donovan has gone.” “Coortship! _Vich no hoiah!_ sure she wouldn't go to coort wid the son o' that ould schamer.” “I'm beginning to fear that it's too thrue,” observed the Bodagh; “and if she has--but let us hear John.” “It's perfectly true, indeed, mother, that she has,” said the son. “Yes, and they are both this moment pledged, betrothed, promised, solemnly promised to each other; and in my opinion the old man within is acting a more honorable part than either of you give him credit for.” “Well, well, well,” exclaimed the mother; “who afther that would ever thrust a daughter? The girl that we rared up as tindher as a chicking, to go to throw herself away upon the son of ould Fardorougha Donovan, the misert! Confusion to the ring ever he'll put an her! I'd see her stretched (dead) first.” “I agree with you in that, Bridget,” said the husband; “if it was only to punish her thrachery and desate, I'll take good care a ring will never go on them; but how do you know all this, John?” “From Una's own lips, father.” The Bodagh paced to and fro in much agitation; one hand in his small--clothes pocket, and the other twirling his watch-key as rapidly as he could. The mother, in the meantime, had thrown herself into a chair, and gave way to a violent fit of grief. “And you have this from Una's own lips?” “Indeed, father, I have; and it is much to her credit that she was candid enough to place such confidence in her brother.” “Pledged and promised to one another. Bridget, who could believe this?” “Believe it! I don't believe it--it's only a schame of the hussy to get him. Oh, thin, Queen of Heaven this day, but it's black news to us!” “John,” said the father, “tell Una to come down to us.” “Father, I doubt that's rather a trying task for her. I wish, you wouldn't insist.” “Go off, sir; she must come down immediately, I'll have it from her own lips, too.” Without another word of remonstrance the son went to bring her down. When the brother and sister entered the room, O'Brien still paced the floor. He stood, and, turning his eyes upon his daughter with severe displeasure, was about to speak, but he appeared to have lost the power of utterance; and, after one or two ineffectual attempts, the big tears fairly rolled down his cheeks. “See, see,” said the mother, “see what you have brought us to. Is it thrue that you're promised to Fardorougha's son?” Una tottered over to a chair, and the blood left her cheeks; her lips became dry, and she gasped for breath. “Why, don't you think it worth your while to answer me?” continued the mother. The daughter gave a look of deep distress and supplication at her brother; but when she perceived her father in tears, her head sank down upon her bosom.