“It’s no matter what I may suffer myself,” she replied; “no matter at all about that; but wanst and for all, I tell you that let what may happen, I’m not the girl to go into a family that have treated my dear brother as yours has done.  Your sister’s conduct has been very harsh and cruel to the man she was to be married to.”

“My sister, Dora, never did anything but what was right.”

“Well, then, let her go and marry the Pope, with reverence be it spoken, for I don’t know any other husband that’s fit for her.  I’d like to see the girl that never did anything wrong; it’s a sight I never saw yet, I know.”

“Dora, dear,” replied her lover, “I don’t blame you for being angry.  I know that such a load of disgrace upon any family is enough to put one past their temper.  I don’t care about that, however,” he proceeded; “if he had betrayed his church and his country ten times over, an’ got five hundred pounds instead of fifty, it wouldn’t prevent me from makin’ you my wife.”

Her eyes almost emitted fire at this unconsciously offensive language of Cavanagh.  She calmed herself, however, and assumed a manner that was cool and cuttingly ironical.

“Wouldn’t you, indeed?” she replied; “dear me!  I have a right to be proud of that; and so you’d be mane enough to marry into a family blackened by disgrace.  I thought you had some decent pride, James.”

“But you have done nothing wrong, Dora,” he replied; “’you’re free from any blame of that kind.”

“I have done nothing wrong, haven’t I?” she returned.  “Ay, a thousand things—­for, thank God, I’m not infallible like your sister.  Haven’t I supported my brother in every thing he did? and I tell you that if I had been in his place I’d just ‘a’ done what he did.  What do you think o’ me now?”

“Why, that every word you say, and every lively look—­ay, or angry if you like—­that you give—­makes me love you more and more.  An’ plase God, my dear Dora, I hope soon to see you my own darlin’ wife.”

“That’s by no means a certain affair, James; an’ don’t rely upon it.  Before ever I become your wife Kathleen must change her conduct to my brother.”

“’Deed and I’m afraid that shell never do, Dora.”

“Then the sorra ring ever I’ll put on you while there’s, breath in my body.”

“Why, didn’t she give him three months to clear himself?”

“Did she, indeed?  And do you think that any young man of spirit would pay attention to such a stilted pride as that?  It was her business to send for him face to face, and to say—­’Bryan M’Mahon, I never knew you or one of your family to tell a lie or do a dishonest or disgraceful act’—­and here as she spoke the tears of that ancient integrity and hereditary pride which are more precious relics in a family than the costliest jewels that ever sparkled in the sun, sprang from her eyes—­’and now, Bryan M’Mahon, I ax no man’s word but your own—­I ax no other evidence but your own—­I put it to your conscience—­to that honor that has never yet been tarnished by any of your family, I say I put it to yourself, here face to face with the girl that loves you—­and answer me as you are in the presence of God—­did you do what they charge you with?  Did you do wrong knowingly and deliberately, and against your own conscience?”