“Let me go, now, Barry, and, to-morrow, I’ll tell you everything—­indeed I will—­and I’ll thry to do all you’d have me; indeed, and indeed, I will!  Only do let me go now, for you’ve frighted me.”

“You’re likely to be more frighted yet, as you call it!  And be tramping along the roads, I suppose, with Martin Kelly, before the morning.  No!  I’ll have an answer from you, any way.  I’ve a right to that!”

“Oh, Barry!—­What is it you want?—­Pray let me go—­pray, pray, for the love of the blessed Jesus, let me go.”

“I’ll tell you where you’ll go, and that’s into Ballinasloe mad-house!  Now, mark me—­so help me—­I’ll set off with you this night, and have you there in the morning—­as an idiot as you are, if you won’t make the promise I’m telling you!”

By this time Anty’s presence of mind had clean left her.  Indeed, all the faculties of her reason had vanished; and, as she saw her brother’s scowling face so near her own, and heard him threatening to drag her to a mad-house, she put her hands before her eyes, and made one rush to escape from him—­to the door—­to the window—­anywhere to get out of his reach.

Barry was quite drunk now.  Had he not been so, even he would hardly have done what he then did.  As she endeavoured to rush by him, he raised his fist, and struck her on the face, with all his force.  The blow fell upon her hands, as they were crossed over her face; but the force of the blow knocked her down, and she fell upon the floor, senseless, striking the back of her head against the table.

“Confound her,” muttered the brute, between his teeth, as she fell, “for an obstinate, pig-headed fool!  What the d——­l shall I do now?  Anty, get up!—­get up, will you!—­What ails you?”—­and then again to himself, “the d——­l seize her!  What am I to do now?” and he succeeded in dragging her on to the sofa.

The man-servant and the cook although up to this point, they had considered it would be ill manners to interrupt the brother and sister in their family interview, were nevertheless at the door; and though they could see nothing, and did not succeed in hearing much, were not the less fully aware that the conversation was of a somewhat stormy nature on the part of the brother.  When they heard the noise which followed the blow, though not exactly knowing what had happened, they became frightened, and began to think something terrible was being done.

“Go in, Terry, avich,” whispered the woman,—­“Knock, man, and go in—­shure he’s murdhering her!”

“What ‘ud he do to me thin, av’ he’d strick a woman, and she his own flesh and blood!  He’ll not murdher her—­but, faix, he’s afther doing something now!  Knock, Biddy, knock, I say, and screech out that you’re afther wanting Miss Anty.”

The woman had more courage than the man—­or else more compassion, for, without further parleying, she rapped her knuckles loudly against the door, and, as she did so, Terry sneaked away to the kitchen.