The artful hussey, she knew the tenderest spot of his nature by an instinct! for if there was anything he could n't resist, it was the appeal to his being Irish. And to show you, Molly, the designing craft of her, _she_ knew that weakness of K. I. in less than a month's acquaintance, that _I_ did n't find out till I was eight or nine years married to him. For a minute or two my feelings overcame me so much that I could n't look or listen to them; but when I did, she had her hand on his arm, and was saying in the softest voice,-- "I may, then, count upon your kindness,--I may rest assured of your friendship." "That you may,--that you may, my dear madam," said he. Yes, Molly, he called her "madam" to her own face. "If there should be any cruel enough, ungenerous enough, or base enough," sobbed she, "to calumniate me, _you_ will be my protector; and beneath _your_ roof shall I find my refuge. _Your_ character--your station in society--the honorable position you have ever held in the world--your claims as a father--your age--will all give the best contradiction to any scandal that malevolence can invent. Those dear venerable locks--" Just as she said this, I heard somebody coming, and in haste too, for a flower-pot was thrown down, and I had barely time to make my escape to my own room, where I threw myself on my bed, and cried for two hours. I have gone through many trials, Molly. Few women, I believe, have seen more affliction and sorrow than myself; from the day of my ill-suited marriage with K. I. to the present moment, I may say, it has been out of one misery into another with me ever since. But I don't think I ever cried as hearty as I did then, for, you see, there was no delusion or confusion possible! I heard everything with my own ears, and saw everything with my own eyes. I listened to their plans and projects, and even heard them rejoicing that, because he was stricken in years, and the father of a grown family, nobody would suspect what he was at "Those dear venerable locks," as she called them, were to witness for him! Oh, Molly, wasn't this too bad; could you believe that there was as much duplicity in the world as this? _I_ own, _I_ never did. I thought I saw wickedness enough in Ireland. I know the shameless way I was cheated in wool, and that Mat never was honest about rabbit-skins. But what was all that compared to this?