What an insoluble enigma is woman!  From the specimen of feminine delicacy and modest diffidence which we have just presented to the reader, who would imagine that Kate Hogan was capable of entering into the deep and rooted sorrow which Kathleen Cavanagh experienced when made acquainted with the calamity which was about to crush her lover.  Yet so it was.  In truth this fierce and furious woman who was at once a thief, a liar, a drunkard, and an impostor, hardened in wickedness and deceit, had in spite of all this a heart capable of virtuous aspirations, and of loving what was excellent and good.  It is true she was a hypocrite herself, yet she detested Hycy Burke for his treachery.  She was a thief and a liar, yet she liked and respected Bryan M’Mahon for his truth and honesty.  Her heart, however, was not all depraved; and, indeed, it is difficult to meet a woman in whose disposition, however corrupted by evil society, and degraded by vice, there is not to be found a portion of the angelic essence still remaining.  In the case before us, however, this may be easily accounted for.  Kate Hogan, though a hell-cat and devil, when provoked, was, amidst all her hardened violence and general disregard of truth and honesty, a virtuous woman and a faithful wife.  Hence her natural regard for much that was good and pure, and her strong sympathy with the sorrow which now fell upon Kathleen Cavanagh.

Kathleen and her sister had been sitting sewing at the parlor window, on the day Bryan had the interview we have detailed with Chevydale and the agent, when they heard their father’s voice inquiring for Hanna.

“He has been at Jemmy Burke’s, Kathleen,” said her sister, “and I’ll wager a nosegay, if one could get one, that he has news of this new sweetheart of yours; he’s bent, Kathleen,” she added, “to have you in Jemmy Burke’s family, cost what it may.”

“So it seems, Hanna.”

“They say Edward Burke is still a finer-looking young fellow than Hycy.  Now, Kathleen,” she added, laughing, “if you should spoil a priest afther all!  Well! un-likelier things have happened.”

“That may be,” replied Kathleen, “but this won’t happen for all that, Hanna.  Go, there he’s calling for you again.”

“Yes—­yes,” she shouted; “throth, among you all, Kathleen, you’re making a regular go-between of me.  My father thinks I can turn you round my finger, and Bryan M’Mahon thinks—­yes, I’m goin’,” she answered again.  “Well, keep up your spirits; I’ll soon have news for you about this spoiled priest.”

“Poor Hanna,” thought Kathleen; “where was there ever such a sister?  She does all she can to keep my spirits up; but it can’t be.  How can I see him ruined and beggared, that had the high spirit and the true heart?”

Hanna, her father, and mother, held a tolerably long discussion together, in which Kathleen could only hear the tones of their voices occasionally.  It was evident, however, by the emphatic intonations of the old couple, that they were urging some certain point, which her faithful sister was deprecating, sometimes, as Kathleen could learn, by seriousness, and at other times by mirth.  At length she returned with a countenance combating between seriousness and jest; the seriousness, however, predominating.