“Well, I hope there was no one out on the mountains in that mist.” “Why,” said he, “what is it to you or me whether there was or not?” “That's thrue,” she replied, “but one wouldn't like any harm to come to a fellow-creature.” “Dear me,” he exclaimed, in harsh tones of hatred and irony, “how fond you are of your fellow-cratures to-night! little your fellow-cratures care about you.” “Well, indeed, I suppose that's thrue enough, Frank; what 'ud make them care about me or the likes o' me, and for all that whether they may think o' me now, I remimber the time when they did care about me, and when I was loved and respected by all that knew me.” There was a touching humility, and a feeble but heart-broken effort at self-respect in the poor woman's words and manner that were pitiful and pathetic to the last degree, and which even Finnerty himself was obliged to acknowledge. “But where's the use of thinking about these things now,” he replied; “it isn't what we were then, Vread, but what we are now, that we ought to think of.” “But, sure, Frank,” said the simple-minded creature, “one cannot prevint the memory from, goin' back to the early times, when we wor happy, and when the world was no trouble to us.” There was a pause, and after a little she added, “I dunna is the night clearin'?” Finnerty rose, and proceeding to the door, looked out a moment, then went to the corner of the house to get a better view of the sky, after which he returned. “The mist is gone,” he observed, “from the mountains, and I suppose the boys will soon begin to come.” “Throth, Frank,” she replied, “I hate these nightly meetin's that you hould here--all this plottin' and plannin' isn't nor can't be good.” “You hate them! an' who the ould diaoul cares whether you do or not? I allow them this house to meet in, bekaise it's large and far from the polis. A house down in the country, where they might pop in on them, wouldn't be so safe; here, however, no one would suspect them of meetin', and from the way the house is situated, no one could come upon us widout bein' known or seen. You hate! that indeed!” “An' what do they meet for, Frank? if it's a fair question!” “It's not a fair question, an' you have no business to ax; still if you want to know, and if it can make you anything the wiser, you shall hear. It's to break a Millstone they meet.” “To brake a millstone, _inngh!_ Oh, sorra a word of that I believe. Sure there's no millstone here?--if you want to break millstones you must go farther up--to Carnmore, where they make them. Sorra millstone's here, I know.” “You know--oh, how much you know! I tell you, there's a great Millstone that covers and grinds the whole kingdom, or at least the greatest parts of it--that's the Millstone we want to brake, and that we will brake.” “When did you hear from Mark Ratigan, or see him?”