g as I could," she replied, wiping her eye;
"but you know, after all, nature's nature, an' will have its way. You
know, too, that this is the first tear I shed, since he left us."

"I know," replied her son, laying her careworn cheek over upon his
bosom, "that you are the best mother that ever breathed, an' that I
would lay down my life to save your heart from bein' crushed, as it is,
an' as it has been."

She felt a few warm tears fall upon her face as he spoke; and the only
reply she made was, to press him affectionately to her heart.

"God's merciful, if we're obedient," she added, in a few moments; "don't
you remember, that when Abraham was commanded to kill his only son, he
was ready to obey God, and do it; and don't you remember that it
wasn't until his very hand was raised, with the knife in it, that God
interfered. Whisht," she continued, "I hear a step--who is it? Oh, poor
Tom!"

The poor young man entered as she spoke; and after looking about him for
some time, placed himself in the arm chair.

"Tom, darlin'," said his sister Peggy, "don't sit in that--that's our
poor father's chair; an' until he sits in it again, none of us ever
will."

"Nobody has sich a right to sit in it as I have," he replied, "I'm a
murdherer."

His words, his wild figure, and the manner in which he uttered them,
filled them with alarm and horror.

"Tom, dear," said his brother, approaching him, "why do you speak that
way?--you're not a murdherer!"

"I am!" he replied; "but I haven't done wid the Sullivans yet, for what
they're goin' to do--ha, ha, ha!--oh, no. It's all planned; an' they'll
suffer, never doubt it."

"Tom," said Mary, who began to fear that he might, in some wild
paroxysm, have taken the life of the unfortunate miser, or of some one
else; "if you murdhered any one, who was it?"

"Who was it?" he replied; "if you go up to Curraghbeg churchyard, you'll
find her there; the child's wid her--but I didn't murdher the child, did
I?"

On finding that he alluded only to the unfortunate Peggy Murtagh, they
recovered from the shock into which his words had thrown them. Tom,
however, appeared exceedingly exhausted and feeble, as was evident from
his inability to keep himself awake. His head gradually sank upon his
breast, and in a few minutes he fell into a slumber. "I'll put him to
bed," said Con; "help me to raise him."

They lifted him up, and a melancholy sight it was to see that face,
which had once been such a