“It is a bargain, most ingenuous, most subtle, and most conscientious Hycy! Enable me to enter upon the farm of Ahadarra--to get possession of it--and calculate upon my most--let me see--what's the best word--most strenuous advocacy. That's it: there's my hand upon it. I shall support you, Hycy; but, at the same time, you must not hold me accountable for my sister's conduct. Beyond fair and reasonable persuasion, she must be left perfectly free and uncontrolled in whatever decision she may come to.” “There's my hand, then, Harry; I can ask no more.” After Clinton had gone, Hycy felt considerably puzzled as to the manner in which he had conducted himself during the whole evening. Sometimes he imagined he was under the influence of liquor, for he had drunk pretty freely; and again it struck him that he manifested an indifference to the proposal made to him, which he only attempted to conceal lest Hycy might perceive it. He thought, however, that he observed a seriousness in Clinton, towards the close of their conversation, which could not have been assumed; and as he gave himself a good deal of credit for penetration, he felt satisfied that circumstances were in a proper train, and likely, by a little management, to work out his purposes. Hycy, having bade him good night at the hall-door, returned again to the parlor, and called Nanny Peety--“Nanny,” said he, “which of the Hogans did you see to-day?” “None o' them, sir, barrin' Kate: they wor all out.” “Did you give her the message?” “Why, sir, if it can be called a message, I did.” “What did you say, now?” “Why, I tould her to tell whichever o' them she happened to see first, that St. Pether was dead.” “And what did she say to that?” “Why, sir, she said it would be a good story for you if he was.” “And what did she mean by that, do you think?” “Faix, then, I dunna--barrin' that you're in the black books wid him, and that you'd have a better chance of gettin' in undher a stranger that didn't know you.” “Nanny,” he replied, laughing, “you are certainly a very smart girl, and indeed a very pretty girl--a very interesting young woman, indeed, Nanny; but you won't listen to reason.” “To raison, sir, I'll always listen; but not to wickedness or evil.” “Will you have a glass of punch? I hope there is neither wickedness nor evil in that.” “I'm afraid, sir, that girls like me have often found to their cost too much of both in it. Thank you, Masther Hycy, but I won't have it; you know I won't.” “So you will stand in your own light, Nanny?” “I hope not, sir; and, wanst for all, Mr. Hycy, there's no use in spakin' to me as you do. I'm a poor humble girl, an' has nothing but my character to look to.” “And is that all you're afraid of, Nanny?” “I'm afear'd of Almighty God, sir: an' if you had a little fear of Him, too, Mr. Hycy, you wouldn't spake to me as you do.” “Why, Nanny, you're almost a saint on our hands.” “I'm glad to hear it, sir, for the sinners is plenty enough.”