“Why, you’re a great little soldier, Dora,” replied Bryan, smiling on her with affectionate admiration.

“I hate anything tyrannical or overbearing,” she replied, “as I do anything that’s mane and ungenerous.”

“As to Father M’Pepper, we’re not to take him as an example of what his brother priests in general are or ought to be.  The man may think he is doing only his duty; but, at all events, Dora, he has proved to me, very much at my own cost, I grant, that he has more zeal than discretion!  May God forgive him; and that’s the worst I wish him.  When did you see or hear from Kathleen?  I long to give her an explanation of my conduct, because I know she will listen to raison.”

“That’s more than I know yet, then,” replied Dora.  “She has awful high notions of our religion, an’ thinks we ought to go about huntin’ after martyrdom.  Yes, faix, she thinks we ought to lay down our lives for our religion or our counthry, if we were to be called on to do so.  Isn’t that nice doctrine?  She’s always reading books about them.”

“It is, Dora, and thrue doctrine; and so we ought—­that is, if our deaths would serve either the one or the other.”

“And would you die for them, if it went to that? because if you would, I would; for then I’d know that I ought to do it.”

“I don’t know, Dora, whether I’d have strength or courage to do so, but I know one who would.”

“I know too—­Kathleen.”

“Kathleen? you have said it.  She would, I am certain, lay down her life for either her religion or the welfare of her country, if such a sacrifice could be necessary.”

“Bryan, I have heard a thing about her, and I don’t know whether I ought to tell it to you or not.”

“I lave that to your own discretion, Dora; but you haven’t heard, nor can you tell me anything, but what must be to her credit.”

“I’ll tell you, then; I heard it, but I won’t believe it till I satisfy myself—­that your family daren’t name your name to her at home, and that everything is to be over between you.  Now, I’m on my way there to know whether this is true or not; if it is, I’ll think less of her than I ever did.”

“And I won’t Dora; but will think more highly of her still.  She thinks I’m as bad as I’m reported to be.”

“And that’s just what she ought not to think.  Why not see you and ask you the raison of it like a—­ha! ha!—­I was goin’ to say like a man?  Sure if she was as generous as she ought to be, she’d call upon you to explain yourself; or, at any rate, she’d defend you behind your back, and, when the world’s against you, whether you wor right or wrong.”

“She’d do nothing at the expense of truth,” replied her brother.

“Truth!” exclaimed the lively and generous girl, now catching the warmth from her own enthusiasm, “truth! who’d regard truth—­”

“Dora!” exclaimed Bryan, with a seriocomic smile.