“I have, mother!--I have!--Iv you didn't spake o' the prushaugh vooe, I wouldn't have tould you; bud there'd be no salvation for me, iv you died and did'nt forgive me for it:--for though you forgave me for every thing besides, you couldn't forgive me for what you didn't know about. I'd die iv I didn't confess to somebody;--and who's there in the wide world I could open mee soul to bud yourself, mother?” “Oh! my grief, Johnny! and is it come to this?--Bud are you sure you're not pursued?--(spake low, for they're at the door, and it won't shut close)--are you sure, my dear?” “I don't know, mother; I think I'm not: bud I'm afraid, as well I may, from what he said to me, and that same thing you dreamed about, I'll be found out and hung, worse luck! who knows?--though I never meant to harm him, as you'll hear, mother, at the last day,--the day o' judgment, whin there's no keeping a secret.” “Who was your victim, Johnny? And where was it you were tempted to risk your soul?” “It was the Hearthmoneyman I killed!--I'd been watching for him, different ways, day and night, to rob him of his collection; but he'd always somebody wid him, or there was people coming; or whin there wasn't, I hadn't the heart, until this blessed morning.” “In the broad day?” “It was;--miles away where you never have been. Bud he was too much for me, mother; and if it wasn't for the bit of ould baggonet I carried in mee sherkeen, without ever intinding to use it, he'd have taken me off to the police: for he got away mee stick from me, and I couldn't manage him; no, nor keep him off, nor get away from him even, till I took out the baggonet.” “Did no one see you?--Was there nobody near?--Are you sure, now?” “I am:--bud, oh! mother! what do you think he said to me? There was wild turnips growing by the road side, and as he fell among them, says he,--'You think no one sees you; bud while there's a single root of this prushaugh vooe growing in Ireland, I'll not want a witness that you murdered me!' Then he dragged up a handful of it, and threw it in the face o' me, as he fell back for ever.” “My dream! my dream!” cried the ould woman; “Curse his collection! Curse the money that tempted mee child into this sin!” “I took none of his money!--not a keenogue! How could I touch it after what I tould you?--But what'll I do, mother?” “Fly, my dear! Go hide yourself far, far away! Go, and my blessing be on you!--Go, for you'll be suspected and pursued!--Go at once, for I'll not be able to spake much more!--Go, while I've mee sight to see you depart!--Go, while I've sinse left to hear the last o' your footsteps, out away through the garden! Mee eyes is getting dim, and the breath's going from me.” “Oh! mother! how can I tear meeself from you?”