He seldom talked of marriage though he said enough of love; and when he did, it was with vague promises, saying how happy they would be when she was his wife, how much more comfortable her home would be, how nicely she would receive her friends in Mohill. These, and little jokes about their future _menage_ in a married state, were all he had ever said. She never asked him--indeed, she did not dare to ask; she did not like to press him; and Captain Ussher had a frown about him, which, somehow, Feemy had already learnt to fear. He treated her too a little cavalierly, and her father and brother not a little. He ridiculed openly all that with her, hitherto, had been most sacred--her priest and her religion. She was not angry at this; she was hardly aware of it; and, in fact, was gradually falling into his way of thinking; but the effect upon her was the same--it made her uncomfortable. A girl should never obey her lover till she is married to him; she may comply with his wishes, but she should not allow herself to be told with authority that this or that should be her line of conduct. Now Feemy had so given herself up to her lover, that she was obedient to him in all things; to him, even in opposition to her brother or her priest, and consequently she was to a degree humiliated even in his eyes. She did not feel the degradation herself, but there was still a feeling within, which she could not define, which usually destroyed her comfort. Now, however, Myles was in so good a temper, and seemed so kind to her, that that, and her little prospect of pleasure, did make her happy. She was sitting in this humour on the old sofa close to him, leaning on his arm, which was round her waist, when she heard her brother's footstep at the hall door. "Here's Thady, Myles; sit off a bit." Myles got up and walked to the window, and Thady entered with anything but a gay look; he had just left Father John. "Well, Thady?" said Feemy. "How are you, Thady, this morning?" said the Captain, offering his hand, which the other reluctantly took. "Good morning, Captain Ussher." "Did you hear, Thady, I caught another of your boys with malt up at Loch Sheen last Monday,--Joe Reynolds, or Tim Reynolds, or something? He's safe in Carrick." "I did hear you got a poor boy up there, who was in it by chance, and took him off just for nothing. But he's no tenant of ours, so I have nothing to do with it; his brother Joe lives on our land." "Do you mean to tell me, Thady, you believe all that d----d nonsense about knowing nothing about it; and he sitting there in the cabin, and the malt hadn't been in it half an hour?" "I don't know what you call d----d nonsense, Captain Ussher; but I suppose I may believe what I please without going to Carrick Gaol too for it." "Believe what you please for me, Master Thady. Why you seem to have got out of bed the wrong side this morning; or have you and Keegan been striking up some new tiff about the 'rints?'"