t up your weapon," said Owen, contemptuously. "What would I care for
it, if I wanted to take your life? do you think the likes of me has any
hould on the world?" and he laughed a scornful and bitter laugh.

"How is this, then?" cried Leslie; "is murder so light a crime that a
man like this does not shrink from it?"

"The country," whispered Lucas, "is indeed in a fearful state. The
rights of property no longer exist among us. That fellow--because he
lost his farm--"

"Stop, sir!" cried Owen, fiercely; "I will deny nothing of my guilt--but
lay not more to my charge than is true. Want and misery have brought me
low--destitution and recklessness still lower--but if I swore to have
your life this night, it was not for any vengeance of my own."

"Ha! then there is a conspiracy!" cried Lucas, hastily. "We must have it
out of you--every word of it--or it will go harder with yourself."

Owen's only reply was a bitter laugh; and from that moment, he never
uttered another word. All Lucas's threats, all Leslie's entreaties, were
powerless and vain. The very allusion to becoming an informer was too
revolting to be forgiven, and he firmly resolved to brave any and every
thing, rather than endure the mere proposal.

They returned to Galway as soon as the post-boys had succeeded in
repairing the accidental breakage of the harness, which led to the
opportune appearance of the landlord and his agent in the hut; Owen
accompanying them without a word or a gesture.

So long as Lucas was present, Owen never opened his lips; the dread
of committing himself, or in any way implicating one amongst his
companions, deterred him; but when Leslie sent for him, alone, and asked
him the circumstances which led him to the eve of so great a crime, he
confessed all--omitting nothing, save such passages as might involve
others--and even to Leslie he was guarded on this topic.

The young landlord listened with astonishment and sorrow to the
peasant's story. Never till now did he conceive the mischiefs neglect
and abandonment can propagate, nor of how many sins mere poverty can be
the parent. He knew not before that the very endurance of want can teach
another endurance, and make men hardened against the terrors of the law
and its inflictions. He was not aware of the condition of his tenantry;
he wished them all well off and happy; he had no self-accusings of a
grudging nature, nor an oppressive disposition, and he absolved himself
of any hardships