“I'll tell you, then; I heard it, but I won't believe it till I satisfy myself--that your family daren't name your name to her at home, and that everything is to be over between you. Now, I'm on my way there to know whether this is true or not; if it is, I'll think less of her than I ever did.” “And I won't Dora; but will think more highly of her still. She thinks I'm as bad as I'm reported to be.” “And that's just what she ought not to think. Why not see you and ask you the raison of it like a--ha! ha!--I was goin' to say like a man? Sure if she was as generous as she ought to be, she'd call upon you to explain yourself; or, at any rate, she'd defend you behind your back, and, when the world's against you, whether you wor right or wrong.” “She'd do nothing at the expense of truth,” replied her brother. “Truth!” exclaimed the lively and generous girl, now catching the warmth from her own enthusiasm, “truth! who'd regard truth--” “Dora!” exclaimed Bryan, with a seriocomic smile. “Ha! ha! ha!--truth! what was I sayin'? No, I didn't mean to say anything against truth; oh, no, God forgive me!” she added, immediately softening, whilst her bright and beautiful eyes filled with tears, “oh, no, nor against my darlin' Kathleen either; for, Bryan, I'm tould that she has never smiled since; and that the color that left her cheeks when she heard of your vote has never come back to it; and that, in short, her heart is broken. However, I'll soon see her, and maybe I won't plade your cause; no lawyer could match me. Whisht!” she exclaimed, “isn't that Gerald himself comin' over to us?” “It is,” replied Bryan, “let us meet him;” and, as he spoke, they turned their steps towards him. As they met, Bryan, forgetting everything that had occurred, and influenced solely by the habit of former friendship and good feeling, extended his hand with an intention of clasping that of his old acquaintance, but the latter withdrew, and refused to meet this usual exponent of good will. “Well, Gerald,” said M'Mahon, smiling, “I see you go with the world too; but, since you won't shake hands with me, allow me to ask your business.” “To deliver a message to you from my daughter, and she'd not allow me to deliver it to any one but yourself. I came three times to see you before your sickness, but I didn't find jou at home.” “What's the message, Gerald?” “The message, Bryan, is--that you are never to spake to her, nor will she ever more name your name. She will never be your wife; for she says that the heart that forgets its duty to God, and the hand that has been soiled by a bribe, can never be anything to her but the cause of shame and sorrow; and she bids me say that her happiness is gone and her heart broken. Now, farewell, and think of the girl you have lost by disgracin' your religion and your name.” Bryan paused for a moment, as if irresolute how to act, and exchanged glances with his high-minded little sister.