Doreen looked up quickly at him. Had something dreadful come to pass? Something dreadful was happening hourly with exasperating monotony. 'We didn't expect you over to-day. Is Sara with you?' 'No. I trotted over on my nag to see if Terence had returned; and must go back at once, as Sara wants to go to Crow Street.' 'Is there anything new?' the young lady inquired, with averted face, as she fastened up her boat. She was constantly fretting morbidly about the slowness of Tim's tread, as people will who are devoured with impatience, and yet half-dread the fulfilment of their wishes. 'New! No,' grunted the small lawyer. 'Would to heaven there were! No change could be for the worse. I have been engrossed these two days past in the Orr trial. Didn't Terence tell you? Well, well, he wouldn't shock ye. It's nothing new, faith! And there's no good talking of such things at home. They gave the verdict against us, despite all that I could urge; and the injustice was so glaring that Terence flew in a passion. Upon my word, he looked as fierce as his brother, the Prince of Cherokees! He vowed there was some mistake--that he would in person explain matters to the Viceroy (foolish lad--not to have learnt better by this time!); and so I trotted over to hear if he had succeeded in his suit.' 'What was the case?' 'Nothing particularly novel--another of the many evil results of the chancellor's Insurrection Bill,' grumbled Curran. 'One of its clauses breathes dire vengeance against such as administer illegal oaths. Rubbish! considering what you and I, young lady, know about a green bough in Britain's crown. Such oaths will be administered so long as this corrupt _régime_ continues--just as they have been for five years and more. A fine would meet the case--and it should be a light one; for indeed the provocation is not slight. But now such administering has become penal. A soldier--a drunken fellow in the Fencibles--comes forward, swears that one Orr--a harmless, obscure farmer, against whom he probably has a grudge--has induced him to take the oath, "Are you straight? as straight as a rush," and the rest. Maybe he has, maybe he hasn't--that's not the point; the jury retire, and remain closed up for hours--all through last night--far into this morning, and by-and-by give in a verdict of guilty. That farmer, who, on my conscience, I believe was innocent, is swinging by this time unless Terence's mission has been successful.'