sure you might mention it to me."

"I'll make a bargain with you, then. Set Ginty to work; let her find
out your husband; get me the papers you spake of, and I'll tell you all
about it."

"With all my heart, father. I'm sure I don't care if you had them this
minute. Let Ginty try her hand, and if she can succeed, well and good."

"Well, Kate," said her father, "I'm glad I seen you; but I think it was
your duty to call upon me long before this."

"I would, but that I was afraid you wouldn't see me; and, besides, Ginty
told me it was better not for some time. She kept me back, or I would
have come months ago."

"Ay, ay; she has some devil's scheme in view that'll end in either
nothing or something. Good-by, now; get me these papers, and I'll tell
you what'll be worth hearin'."

Immediately after her departure Father M'Mahon entered, and found Corbet
behind his counter as usual. Each on looking at the other was much
struck by his evident appearance for the worse; a circumstance, however,
which caused no observation until after they had gone into the little
back room. Corbet's countenance, in addition to a careworn look, and a
consequent increase of emaciation, presented a very difficult study to
the physiognomist, a study not unobserved! by the priest himself. It was
indicative of the conflicting resolutions which had for some time past
been alternating in his mind; but so roguishly was each resolution
veiled by an assumed expression of an opposite I nature, that although
the general inference was true, the hypocrisy of the whole face made it
individually false. Let us suppose, by way of illustration, that a man
whose heart is full of joy successfully puts on a look of grief,
and vice versa. Of course, the physiognomist will be mistaken in the
conclusions he draws from each individual expression, although correct
in perceiving that there are before him the emotions of joy and grief;
the only difference being, that dissimulation has put wrong labels upon
each emotion.

"Anthony," said his reverence, after having taken a seat, "I am sorry to
see such a change upon you for the worse. You are very much broken down
since I saw you last; and although I don't wish to become a messenger of
bad news, I feel, that as a clergyman, it is my duty to tell you so."

"Troth, your reverence," replied the other, "I'm sorry that so far as
bad looks go I must return the compliment. It grieves me: to see you
look so ill, sir."

"I k