“For all that,” replied her father, “it’s strongly suspected that he’s goin’ over to the tories, an’ will vote for Vanston to-morrow.”

Kathleen rose with a glowing cheek, and an eye sparkling with an enthusiastic trust in her lover’s faith; “No, father,” said she, “by the light of heaven above us, he will never vote for Vanston—­unless Vanston becomes the friend of our religion.  I have only one worthless life, but if I had a thousand, and that every one of them was worth a queen’s, I’d stake them all on Bryan M’Mahon’s truth.  If he ever turns traitor—­let me die before I hear it, I pray God this night!”

As she spoke, the tears of pride, trust, and the noble attachment by which she was moved, ran down her cheeks; in fact, the natural dignity and high moral force of her character awed them, and her father completely subdued, simply replied:—­

“Very well, Kathleen; I’ll say no more, dear; I won’t press the matter on you again, and so I’ll tell Jemmy Burke.”

Kathleen, after wiping away her tears, thanked him, and said with a smile, and in spite of the most boundless confidence in the integrity of her lover, “never, at any rate, father, until Bryan M’Mahon turns a traitor to his religion and his country.”

On the evening of the next day, or rather late at night, her father returned from the scene of contest, but very fortunately for Kathleen’s peace of mind during that night, he found on inquiry that she and Hanna had been for a considerable time in bed.  The following morning Hanna, who always took an active share in the duties of the family, and who would scarcely permit her sister to do anything, had been up a short time before her, and heard from her mother’s lips the history of Bryan’s treachery, as it was now termed by all.  We need scarcely say that she was deeply affected, and wept bitterly.  Kathleen, who rose a few minutes afterwards, thought she saw her sister endeavoring to conceal her face, but the idea passed away without leaving anything like a fixed impression upon it.  Hanna, who was engaged in various parts of the house, contrived still to keep her face from the observation of her sister, until at length the latter was ultimately struck by the circumstance as well as by Hanna’s unusual silence.  Just as her father had entered to breakfast, a sob reached her ears, and on going over to inquire if anything were wrong, Hanna, who was now fairly overcome, and could conceal her distress no longer, ran over, and throwing herself on Kathleen’s neck, she exclaimed in a violent burst of grief, “Kathleen, my darling sister, what will become of you!  It’s all true.  Bryan has proved false and a traitor; he voted for Vanston yesterday, and that vote has put the bitter enemy of our faith into Parliament.”

“Bryan M’Mahon a traitor!” exclaimed Kathleen; “no, Hanna—­no, I say—­a thousand times no.  It could not be—­the thing is impossible—­impossible!”

“It is as true as God’s in heaven, that he voted yesterday for Vanston,” said her father; “I both seen him and heard him, an’ that vote it was that gained Vanston the election.”