“Hanna,” said her sister, not encouraging her to proceed any further on that distressing subject; “on to-morrow, the time I allowed for Bryan to clear himself, if he could, will be up, and I have only to beg that you’ll do all you can to prevent my father and mother from distressing me about Edward Burke; I will never marry him, but I expect to see him your husband yet, and I think he’s worthy of you—­that’s saying a great deal, I know.  You love him, Hanna—­I know it, and he loves you, Hanna, for he told me so the last day but one he was here;—­you remember they all went out, and left us together, and then he told me all.”

Hanna’s face and neck became crimson, and she was about to reply, when a rather loud but good-humored voice was heard in the kitchen, for this dialogue took place in the parlor—­exclaiming, “God save all here!  How do you do, Mrs. Cavanagh?  How is Gerald and the youngsters?”

“Indeed all middlin’ well, thank your reverence, barrin’ our eldest girl that’s a little low spirited for some time past.”

“Ay, ay, I know the cause of that—­it’s no secret—­where is she now?  If she’s in the house let me see her.”

The two sisters having composed their dress a little and their features, immediately made their appearance.

“God be good to us!” he exclaimed, “here’s a change!  Why, may I never sin, if I’d know her no more than the mother that bore her.  Lord guard us! look at this!  Do you give her nothing, Mrs. Cavanagh?”

“Nothing on airth,” she replied; “her complaint’s upon the spirits, an’ we didn’t think that physic stuff would be of any use to her.”

“Well, perhaps I will find a cure for her.  Listen to me, darling.  Your sweetheart’s name and fame are cleared, and Bryan M’Mahon is what he ever was—­an honest an’ upright young man.”

Kathleen started, looked around her, as if with amazement, and without seeming to know exactly what she did, went towards the door, and was about to walk out, when Hanna, detaining her, asked with alarm—­“Kathleen, what ails you, dear?  Where are you going?”

“Going,” she replied; “I was going to—­where?—­why?—­what—­what has happened?”

“The news came upon her too much by surprise,” said Hanna, looking towards the priest.

“Kathleen, darlin’,” exclaimed her mother, “try and compose yourself.  Lord guard us, what can ail her?”

“Let her come with me into the parlor, mother, an’ do you an’ Father Magowan stay where you are.”

They accordingly went in, and after about the space of ten minutes she recovered herself so far as to make Hanna repeat the intelligence which the simple-hearted priest had, with so little preparation, communicated.  Having listened to it earnestly, she laid her head upon Hanna’s bosom and indulged in a long fit of quiet and joyful grief.  When she had recovered a little, Father Magowan entered at more length into the circumstances connected with the changes that had affected her lover’s character so deeply, after which he wound up by giving expression to the following determination—­a determination, by the way, which we earnestly recommend to all politicians of his profession.