however, he looked forward with almost absolute certainty to
Thady's acquittal at his trial, and was by far more angry with the
young man himself, at his folly in attempting to fly from justice,
than he was at the deed which had put him under its power. Now,
however, when he saw him pale, fatigued, harassed, and in sorrow at
his door, his anger all turned to pity, and the only feeling left in
his bosom led him to think how he could assuage his sufferings and
comfort him in his afflictions.

Thady was the first to speak,--"Father John," he said, "I've come to
give myself up; I thought I'd tell you, as I passed the door."

"Oh my son, my son!" said Father John. "Come in though, Thady, come
in--till we think what's best to do in this sad time;" and they went
again into the little parlour, where so short a time ago Thady had
made the promise which he now had to confess he had broken.

He then gave the priest, by degrees, the whole history of the affair;
he told how the different events had happened; he explained how
Feemy's appearance as she lay fainting in Ussher's arms, and that
man's words to her, when he declared that she must come with him,
had at the moment made him think that she was being dragged away by
violence; and that he had had this conviction on his mind when he
raised his stick to strike. He then told Father John exactly what
he had done since the occurrence, the precautions which he took
respecting the body--the visit which he paid to his father and his
sister, and lastly, how he had fled for the sake of security, and
passed two miserable days among the mountains in Aughacashel.

"Ah! my poor boy," said Father John, "that's what I have to blame
you for. What made you fly there? what made you fly anywhere? why
did you not with an honest face at once place yourself in the hands
of the police, from whom you must know you couldn't have remained
concealed?"

"Oh, Father John, av you could feel all I felt when I first knew the
man was dead--when my own sisther spurned me--and when my father told
me I was a murdherer, you wouldn't wonder at my flying, av it were
only for an hour."

"That's true, my boy--that's very true; and I won't ask you now where
you were, or who were with you--or what folly you may have done
whilst there; for I haven't the heart to blame you for what you've
done in the extremity of your misery. But now, Thady, we must think
of the future; of course you know, that having come to my hous