Her spirit, animated by the purity and religious truth of this simple but beautiful morality, kindled into pious fervor as she proceeded, so much so indeed, that on turning her eyes towards heaven, whilst she uttered the last words, they sparkled with the mild and serene light of that simple but unconscious enthusiasm on behalf of all goodness which had characterized her whole life, and which indeed is a living principle among thousands of her humble countrywomen.

“This, dear Bryan, is the advice I gave to them all; it an’ my love is the only legacy I have to lave them.  An’ my darlin’ Dora, Bryan—­oh, if you be kind and tendher to any one o’ them beyant another, be so to her.  My darlin’Dora!  Oh! her heart’s all affection, an’ kindness, an’ generosity.  But indeed, as I said, Bryan, the task must fall to you to strengthen and console every one o’ them.  Ay!—­an’ you must begin now.  You wor ever, ever, a good son; an’ may God keep you in the right faith, an’ may my blessin’ an’ His be wid you for ever!  Amin.”

There was a solemn and sustaining spirit in her words which strengthened Bryan, who, besides, felt anxious to accomplish to the utmost extent the affectionate purpose which had caused her to send for him.

“It’s a hard task, mother darlin,” he replied; “but I’ll endeavor, with God’s help, to let them see that I haven’t been your son for nothing; but you don’t know, mother, that Kathleen’s here, an’ Hanna.  They wish to see you, an’ to get your blessin’.”

“Bring them in,” she replied, “an’ let Dora come wid them, an’ stay yourself, Bryan, becaise I’m but weak, an’ I don’t wish that they should stay too long.  God sees its not for want of love for the other girls that I don’t bid you bring them in, but that I don’t wish to see them sufferin’ too much sorrow; but my darlin’ Dora will expect to be where Kathleen is, an’ my own eyes likes to look upon her, an’ upon Kathleen, too, Bryan, for I feel my heart bound to her as if she was one of ourselves, as I hope she will be.”

“Oh, bless her! bless her! mother,” he said, with difficulty, “an’ tell her them words—­say them to herself.  I’ll go now and bring them in.”

He paused, however, for a minute or two, in order to compose his voice and features, that he might not seem to set them an example of weakness, after which he left the apartment with an appearance of greater composure than he really felt.

In a few minutes the four returned:  Bryan, with Kathleen’s hand locked in his, and Hanna, with her arm affectionately wreathed about Dora’s neck, as if the good-hearted girl felt anxious to cherish and comfort her under the heavy calamity to which she was about to be exposed, for Dora wept bitterly.  Mrs. M’Mahon signed to Hanna to approach, who, with her characteristic ardor of feeling, now burst into tears herself, and stooping down kissed her and wept aloud, whilst Dora’s grief also burst out afresh.

The sick woman looked at Bryan, as if to solicit his interference, and the look was immediately understood by Kathleen as well as by himself.