had been for more than a year and a half deeply and devotedly
attached, but without the knowledge of any individual living, save her
lover himself and her brother Bryan.

On seeing him she naturally started, but it was a start of pleasure, and
she felt her cheek flush and again get pale, and her heart palpitated,
then was still a moment, and again resumed its tumultuous pulsations.

"Blessed be God, my darlin' Dora, that I've met you at last," said
James; "in heaven's name how did it happen that we haven't met for such
a length of time?"

"I'm sure that's more than I can tell," replied Dora, "or rather it's
what both, you and I know the cause of too well."

"Ah, poor Dora," he exclaimed, "for your sake I don't wish to spake
about it at all; it left me many a sore heart when I thought of you."

Dora's natural pale cheek mantled, and her eyes deepened with a
beautiful severity, as she hastily turned them on him and said, "what do
you mane, James?"

"About poor Bryan's conduct at the election," he replied, "and that
fifty-pound note; and may hell consume it and him that tempted him with
it!"

"Do you forget," she said, "that you're spaking to his sister that knows
the falsehood of it all; an' how dare you in my presence attempt to say
or think that Bryan M'Mahon would or could do a mane or dishonest act?
I'm afeard, James, there's a kind of low suspicion in your family that's
not right, and I have my reasons for thinking so. I fear there's a want
of true generosity among you; and if I could be sure of it, I tell you
now, that whatever it might cost me, I'd never--but what am I sayin'?
that's past."

"Past! oh, why do you spake that way, Dora dear?"

"It's no matter what I may suffer myself," she replied; "no matter at
all about that; but wanst and for all, I tell you that let what may
happen, I'm not the girl to go into a family that have treated my dear
brother as yours has done. Your sister's conduct has been very harsh and
cruel to the man she was to be married to."

"My sister, Dora, never did anything but what was right."

"Well, then, let her go and marry the Pope, with reverence be it spoken,
for I don't know any other husband that's fit for her. I'd like to see
the girl that never did anything wrong; it's a sight I never saw yet, I
know."

"Dora, dear," replied her lover, "I don't blame you for being angry. I
know that such a load of disgrace upon any family is enough to put one
past their temper. I