O’Brien, who suspected the true cause of their reluctance, did not on this occasion press them further, but consented to their wishes, and promised, not to mention their names, even as indirectly connected with the outrage, until the time they had specified had elapsed.

In the course of the following day Nogher M’Cormick presented himself to the Bodagh and his son, neither of whom felt much difficulty in divining the cause of his visit.

“Well,” said Nogher, after the first usual civilities had passed, “glory be to God, gintlemen, this is desperate fine weather for the season—­barrin’ the wet”

John smiled, but the plain matter-of-fact Bodagh replied,

“Why, how the devil can you call this good weather, neighbor, when it’s raining for the last week, night and day?”

“I do call it good weather for all that,” returned Nogher, “for you ought to know that every weather’s good that God sends.”

“Well,” said the Bodagh, taken aback a little by the Nogher’s piety, “there’s truth in that, too, neighbor.”

“I am right,” said Nogher, “an’ it’s nothin’ else than a sinful world to say that this is bad weather, or that’s bad weather—­bekase the Scriptur says, ‘wo be to thee——­’”

“But, pray,” interrupted John, “what’s your business with my father and me?”

Nogher rubbed down his chin very gravely and significantly,

“Why,” said he, “somethin’ for your own good, gentlemen.”

“Well, what is that?” said John, anxious to bring him to the point as soon as possible.

“The truth, gentlemen, is this—­I’m an ould man, an’ I hope that I never was found to be anything else than an honest one.  They’re far away this day that could give me a good carrechtur—­two o’ them anyhow I’ll never forget—­Connor an’ his mother; but I’ll never see them agin; an’ the ould man too, I never could hate him, in regard of the love he bore his son.  Long, long was the journey he tuck to see that son, an’, as he tould me the day he whint into the ship, to die in his boy’s arms; for he said heaven wouldn’t be heaven to him, if he died anywhere else.”

Nogher’s eyes filled as he spoke, and we need scarcely say that neither the Bodagh nor his son esteemed him the less for his attachment to Connor O’Donovan and his family.

“The sooner I end the business I come about to-day,” said he, “the better.  You want my son Ned, Dandy Duffy, an’ Alick Nulty, to join in givin’ evidence against blaggard Bartle Flanagan.  Now the truth is, gintlemen, you don’t know the state o’ the country.  If they come into a court of justice against him, their lives won’t be worth a traneen.  Its aginst their oath, I’m tould, as Ribbonmen, to prosecute one another; an’ from hints I resaved, I’m afraid they can’t do it, as I said, barrin’ at the risk o’ their lives.”

“Father,” said John, “as far as I have heard, he speaks nothing but truth.”

“I believe he does not,” rejoined the Bodagh, “an’, by my sowl, I’ll be bound he’s an honest man—­upon my credit, I think you are, M’Cormick.”