without
fear or disguise--for I hate both."

"That wouldn't be altogether true either," replied Mave, "if I said so;
for I did come to nurse Nancy, and any others of the family that might
stand in need of it. As to Con, I'm neither ashamed to love him, nor
afeard to acknowledge it; and I had no notion of statin' a falsehood
when I said what I did. I tell you, then, Sarah M'Gowan, that you've
done me injustice. If there appeared to be a falsehood in my words,
there was none in my heart."

"That's truth; I know, I feel that that's truth," replied Sarah,
quickly; "but oh, how wrong I am," she exclaimed, "to mention that
or anything else here that might distract him! Ah," she proceeded,
addressing Mave, "I did you injustice--I feel I did, but don't be angry
with me, for I acknowledge it."

"Why should I be angry with you?" replied Mave, "you only spoke what you
thought, an' this, by all accounts, is what you always do."

"Let us talk as little as possible here," replied Sarah, the sole
absorbing object of whose existence lay in Dalton's recovery. "I will
speak to you on your way home, but not here--not here;" and while
uttering the last words she pointed to Dalton, to intimate that further
conversation might disturb him.

"Dear Mave," observed Mary, now rising from her chair, "you are stayin'
too long; oh, for God's sake, don't stop; you can't dhrame of the danger
you're in."

"But," replied Mave, calmly, "you know, Mary, that I came to stop and to
do whatever I can do till the family comes round. You are too feeble to
undertake anything, and might only get into a relapse if you attempted
it."

"But, then we have Sarah M'Gowan," she replied, "who came, as few
would--none livin' this day, I think, barrin' yourself and her--to stay
with us, and to do anything that she can do for us all. May God for ever
bless her! for short as the time is, I think she has saved some of our
lives--Condy's without a doubt."

Mave turned towards Sarah, and, as she looked upon her, the tears
started to her eyes.

"Sarah M'Gowan," said she, "you are fond of truth, an' you are right;
I can't find words to thank you for doin' what you did, God bless and
reward you!"

She extended her hand as she spoke, but Sarah put it back. "No," said
she, indignantly, "never from you; above all that's livin' don't you
thank me. You, you, why you arn't his wife yet," she exclaimed, in a
suppressed voice of deep agitation, "an maybe you never will. You