“How can he take your property, Barry?” sobbed forth the poor creature, who was, by this time, far gone in tears.

“Then the long and the short of it is, he shan’t have what you call yours.  Tell me, at once, will you—­is it true, that you’ve promised to marry him?”

Anty replied nothing, but continued sobbing violently.

“Cease your nonsense, you blubbering fool!  A precious creature you are to take on yourself to marry any man!  Are you going to answer me, Anty?” And he walked away from the fire, and came and stood opposite to her as she sat upon the sofa.  “Are you going to answer me or not?” he continued, stamping on the floor.

“I’ll not stop here—­and be trated this way—­Barry—­I’m sure—­I do all I—­I can for you—­and you’re always—­bullying me because father divided the property.”  And Anty continued sobbing more violently than ever.  “I won’t stop in the room any more,” and she got up to go to the door.

Barry, however, rushed before her, and prevented her.  He turned the lock, and put the key in his pocket; and then he caught her arm, as she attempted to get to the bell, and dragged her back to the sofa.

“You’re not off so easy as that, I can tell you.  Why, d’ you think you’re to marry whom you please, without even telling me of it?  What d’you think the world would say of me, if I were to let such an idiot as you be caught up by the first sharper that tried to rob you of your money?  Now, look here,” and he sat down beside her, and laid his hand violently on her arm, as he spoke, “you don’t go out of this room, alive, until you’ve given me your solemn promise, and sworn on the cross, that you’ll never marry without my consent; and you’ll give me that in writing, too.”

Anty at first turned very pale when she felt his heavy hand on her arm, and saw his red, glaring eyes so near her own.  But when he said she shouldn’t leave the room alive, she jumped from the sofa, and shrieked, at the top of her shrill voice,—­“Oh, Barry! you’ll not murdher me! shure you wouldn’t murdher your own sisther!”

Barry was rather frightened at the noise, and, moreover, the word “murder” quelled him.  But when he found, after a moment’s pause, that the servants had not heard, or had not heeded his sister, he determined to carry on his game, now that he had proceeded so far.  He took, however, a long drink out of his tumbler, to give him fresh courage, and then returned to the charge.

“Who talked of murdering you?  But, if you bellow in that way, I’ll gag you.  It’s a great deal I’m asking, indeed—­that, when I’m your only guardian, my advice should be asked for before you throw away your money on a low ruffian.  You’re more fit for a mad-house than to be any man’s wife; and, by Heaven, that’s where I’ll put you, if you don’t give me the promise I ask!  Will you swear you’ll marry no one without my leave?”

Poor Anty shook with fear as she sate, with her eyes fixed on her brother’s face.  He was nearly drunk now, and she felt that he was so,—­and he looked so hot and so fierce—­so red and cruel, that she was all but paralysed.  Nevertheless, she mustered strength to say,