"And now, Peter, it's three weeks last Sunday, that I've been bespeaking this poor girl for your sake, and my conscience tells me that it's not right to make a poor cratur fond of me, seeing as how that I don't care a fig for her in the way of a wife, and in any other way it would be the ruin of the poor thing. I have spoken to Father McGrath on the subject, who says `that we may do evil that good may come, and, that if she had been a party to the deceit, it's nothing but proper that she should be punished in this world, and that will, perhaps, save her in the next;' still I don't like it, Peter, and it's only for you among the living that I'd do such a thing; for the poor creature now hangs upon me so fondly and talks about the wedding day; and tells me long stories about the connections which have taken place between the O'Flanagans and the O'Briens, times gone by, when they were all in their glory. Yesterday as we sat in the wood, with her arm round my waist, `Ella, dear,' says I `who are these people that you stay with?' And then she told me all she knew about their history, and how Mary Sullivan was a nurse to the baby. "`And what is the baby?' says I. "`A boy, sure,' says she. "`And Sullivan's baby?' "`That's a girl.' "`And is Mary Sullivan there now?' "`No,' says she; `it's yestreen she left with her husband and baby, to join the regiment that's going out to Ingy.' "`Yesterday she left?' says I, starting up. "`Yes,' replies she, `and what do you care about them?' "`It's very much I care,' replied I, `for a little bird has whispered a secret to me.' "`And what may that be?' says she. "`Only that the childer were changed, and you know it as well as I do.' But she swore that she knew nothing about it, and that she was not there when either of the children were born, and I believe that she told the truth. `Well,' says I, `who tended the lady?' "`My own mother,' says Ella. `And if it were so, who can know but she?' "`Then,' says I, `Ella, jewel, I've made a vow that I'll never marry, till I find out the truth of this matter; so the sooner you get it out of your mother the better.' Then she cried very much, and I was almost ready to cry too, to see how the poor thing was vexed at the idea of not being married. After a while she swabbed up her cheeks, and kissing me, wished me good-bye, swearing by all the saints that the truth should come out somehow or another.