ated sparkle of her face was so delightful and fascinating that
her lover attempted to press her to his bosom; but she would not suffer
it.

"Behave now," she said firmly; "sorra bit--no," she proceeded; "and
whilst all the world was against him, runnin' him down and blackenin'
him--was she ever the girl to stand up behind his back and defend him
like a--hem--defend him, I say, as a girl that loved him ought, and a
generous-girl would?"

"But how could she when she believed, him to be wrong?"

"Why did she believe him to be wrong upon mere hearsay? and granting
that he was wrong! do you think now if you had done what they say he did
(and they lie that say it), an' that I heard the world down on you for
your first slip, do you think, I say, that I'd not defend you out of
clane contrariness,--and to vex them--ay, would I."

"I know, darlin', that you'd do everything that's generous an' right;
but settin' that affair aside, my dear Dora, what are you and I to do?"

"I don't know what we're to do," she replied; "it's useless for you to
ax me from my father now; for he wouldn't give me to you,--sorra bit."

"But you'll give me yourself, Dora, darling."

"Not without his consent, no nor with it,--as the families stand this
moment; for I tell you again that the sorra ring ever I'll put on you
till your sister sends for my brother, axes his pardon, and makes up
with him, as she ought to do. Oh why, James dear, should she be so harsh
upon him," she said, softening at once; "she that is so good an' so
faultless afther all? but I suppose that's the raison of it--she doesn't
know what it is to do anything that's not right."

"Dora," said her lover, "don't be harsh on Kathleen; you don't know what
she's sufferin'. Dora, her heart's broke--broke."

The tears were already upon Dora's cheeks, and her lover, too, was
silent for a moment.

"She has," resumed the warm-hearted girl, "neither brother nor sister
that loves her, or can love her, better than I do, afther all."

"But in our case, darling, what's to be done?" he asked, drawing her
gently towards him.

"I'll tell you then what I'd recommend you to do," she replied; "spake
to my brother Bryan, and be guided by him. I must go now, it's quite
dusk."

There was a moment's pause, then a gentle remonstrance on the part of
Dora, followed, however, by that soft sound which proceeds from the
pressure of youthful lips--after which she bade her lover a hasty
good-night and h