ared to
expect justice without mercy.'

"'I don't understand you,' he replied sharply; 'what do you mean?'

"'Bryan,' said I, 'I scorn a moral circumbendibus where the direct truth
is necessary; I have heard it said, and I fear it is burthened wid too
much uncomfortable veracity, that Kathleen Cavanagh has donned the black
cap* in doing the judicial upon you, and that she considers her sentence
equal to the laws of the Medes and Persians, unchangeable--or,
like those of our own blessed church--wid reverence be the analogy
made--altogether infallible.' His eye blazed as I spoke; he caught me
where by the collar wid a grip that made me quake--'Another word against
Kathleen Cavanagh,' he replied, 'and I will shake every joint of your
carcass out of its place.' His little sister, Dora, was wid him at the
time; 'Give him a shake or two as it is,' she added, egging him on, 'for
what he has said already;' throth she's a lively little lady that,
an' if it wasn't that she has a pair of dark shining eyes, and sweet
features--ay, and as coaxin' a figure of her own--however, sorra may
care, somehow, I defy any one to, be angry wid her."

* Alluding to the practice of putting on the black cap when
the Judge condemns a felon to death.

"Come, Mr. O'Finigan," said James, approaching him, "you must have
another glass."

"Well no, James," he replied, "I think not."

"Faith, but I say you will; if it was only to hear what Dora--hem--what
Bryan said.

"Very well," said the master, allowing him to take the glass which he
received again brimming, "thanks, James."

"'Well,' said Bryan, lettin' go my collar, 'blame any one you like;
blame me, blame Vanston, blame Chevydale, Fethertonge, anybody,
everybody, the Priest, the Bishop, the Pope,--but don't dare to blame
Kathleen Cavanagh.'

"'Why,' said I, 'has she been right in her condemnation of you?'

"'She has,' he replied, with a warmth of enthusiasm which lit up his
whole features; 'she has done nothing but what was right. She just acted
as she ought, and all I can say is, that I know I'm not worthy of her,
and never was. God bless her!'

"'And don't let me hear,' said Dora, taking up the dialogue, 'that ever
you'll mention her name wid disrespect--mark that, Mr. O'Finigan, or
it'll be worse for you a thrifle.'

"Her brother looked on her wid complacent affection, and patting her on
the head, said, 'Come, darling, don't beat him now. You see the risk you
run,' he ad