“I’m thankful to you, sir,” said Nogher.

“I’m inclined to think further,” said John, “that we have proof enough against Flanagan without them.”

“Thin, if you think so, John, God forbid that we’d be the manes of bringin’ the young men into throuble.  All I’m sorry for is, that they allowed themselves to be hooked into sich a dark and murdherous piece of villainy.”

“I know, sir, it’s a bad business,” said Nogher, “but it can’t be helped now; no man’s safe that won’t join it.”

“Faith, and I won’t for one,” replied the Bodagh, “not but that they sent many a threat to me.  Anything against the laws o’ the counthry is bad, and never ends but in harm to them that’s consamed in it.”

“M’Cormick,” added the son, “villain as Flanagan is, we shall let him once more loose upon society, sooner than bring the lives of your son, and the two other young men into jeopardy.  Such, unhappily, is the state of the country, and we must submit to it.”

“I thank you, sir,” said Nogher.  “The truth is, they’re sworn, it seems, not to prosecute one another, let whatever may happen; an’ any one of them that breaks that oath—­God knows I wish they’d think of others as much as they do of it—­barrin’ a stag that’s taken up, an’ kep safe by the Government, is sure to be knocked on the head.”

“Say no more, M’Cormick,” said the Bodagh’s inestimable son, “say no more.  No matter how this may terminate, we shall not call upon them as evidences.  It must be so, father,” he added, “and God help the country in which the law is a dead letter, and the passions and bigoted prejudices of disaffected or seditious men the active principle which impresses its vindictive horrors upon society!  Although not myself connected with them, I know their oath, and—­but I say no more.  M’Cormick, your friends are safe; we shall not, as I told you, call upon them, be the result what it may; better that one guilty should escape, than that three innocent persons should suffer.”

Nogher again thanked him, and having taken up his hat, was about to retire, when he paused a moment, and, after some consideration with himself, said—­

“You’re a scholar, sir, an’—­but maybe I’m sayin’ what I oughtn’t to say—­but sure, God knows, it’s all very well known long ago.”

“What is it, M’Cormick?” asked John; “speak out plainly; we will not feel offended.”

“’Twas only this, sir,” continued Nogher, “I’m an unlarned man; but he would write to you may be—­I mane Connor—­an’ if he did, I’d be glad to hear—­but I hope I don’t offind you, sir.  You wouldn’t think of me, may be, although many and many’s the time I nursed him on these knees, an’ carried him about in these arms, an he cried—­ay, as God is my judge, he cried bitterly—­when, as he said, at the time—­’Nogher, Nogher, my affectionate friend, I’ll never see you more.’”

John O’Brien shook him cordially by the hand, and replied—­“I will make it a point to let you know anything that our family may hear from him.”