“And my property?—­what’s to become of my property?” said Barry.

“Your property’s safe, Mr Lynch; we can’t touch that.  We’re not prescribing any punishment to you.  We fear, indeed we know, you’re beyond the reach of the law, or we shouldn’t make the proposal.”  Barry breathed freely again as he heard this avowal.  “But you’re not beyond the reach of public opinion—­of public execration—­of general hatred, and of a general curse.  For your sister’s sake—­for the sake of Martin Kelly, who is going to marry the sister whom you wished to murder, and not for your own sake, you shall be allowed to leave the country without this public brand being put upon your name.  If you remain, no one shall speak to you but as to a man who would have murdered his sister:  murder shall be everlastingly muttered in your ears; nor will your going then avail you, for your character shall go with you, and the very blackguards with whom you delight to assort, shall avoid you as being too bad even for their society.  Go now, Mr Lynch—­go at once;—­leave your sister to happiness which you cannot prevent; and she at least shall know nothing of your iniquity, and you shall enjoy the proceeds of your property anywhere you will—­anywhere, that is, but in Ireland.  Do you agree to this?”

“I’m an innocent man, Mr Armstrong.  I am indeed.”

“Very well,” said the parson, “then we may as well go away, and leave you to your fate.  Come, Lord Ballindine, we can have nothing further to say,” and they again all rose from their seats.

“Stop, Mr Armstrong; stop,” said Barry.

“Well,” said the parson; for Barry repressed the words which were in his mouth, when he found that his visitors did stop as he desired them.

“Well, Mr Lynch, what have you further to say.”

“Indeed I am not guilty.”  Mr Armstrong put on his hat and rushed to the door—­“but—­” continued Barry.

“I will have no ‘buts,’ Mr Lynch; will you at once and unconditionally agree to the terms I have proposed?”

“I don’t want to live in the country,” said Barry; “the country’s nothing to me.”

“You will go then, immediately?” said the parson.

“As soon as I have arranged about the property, I will,” said Barry.

“That won’t do,” said the parson.  “You must go at once, and leave your property to the care of others.  You must leave Dunmore to-day, for ever.”

“To-day!” shouted Barry.

“Yes, to-day.  You can easily get as far as Roscommon.  You have your own horse and car.  And, what is more, before you go, you must write to your sister, telling her that you have made up your mind to leave the country, and expressing your consent to her marrying whom she pleases.”

“I can’t go to-day,” said Barry, sulkily.  “Who’s to receive my rents? who’ll send me my money?—­besides—­besides.  Oh, come—­that’s nonsense.  I ain’t going to be turned out in that style.”