id, 'and make the fules think it brose.' It's no ower
pleasant to expose one's poverty."

"Then you'll write the letter," said Mark, rising, "and we must do what
we can, in the way of preparation. The time is short enough too, for
that letter was written almost a month ago--she might arrive this very
week."

As he spoke, the shuffling sounds of feet were heard in the corridor
outside; the young man sprung to the door, and looked out, and just
caught sight of Kerry O'Leary, with a pair of boots under his arm,
descending the stairs.

"That fellow, Kerry--listening as usual," said Mark. "I heard him at my
door about a fortnight since, when I was talking to Herbert, and I sent
a bullet through the pannel--I thought it might cure him."

"I wonder it did na kill him!" exclaimed M'Nab in horror.

"No, no, my hand is too steady for that. I aimed at least two inches
above his head--it might have grazed his hair."

"By my word, I'll no' play the eaves-dropper wi' you, Mark; or, at
least, I'd like to draw the charge o' your pistols first."

"She can have my room," said Mark, not heeding the speech. "I'll
take that old tower they call the guard-room; I fancy I shall not be
dispossessed for a considerable time,"--and the youth left the chamber
to look after the arrangements he spoke of.

"'Tis what I tould you," said Kerry, as he drew his stool beside the
kitchen fire; "I was right enough, she's coming back again to live
here--I was listening at the door, and heerd it all."

"And she's laving the blessed nunnery!" exclaimed Mrs. Branagan, with a
holy horror in her countenance--"desarting the elegant place, with the
priests, and monks, and friars, to come here again, in the middle of
every wickedness and divilment--ochone! ochone!"

"What wickedness and what divilment are you spaking about?" said Kerry,
indignantly, at the aspersion thus cast on the habits of the house.

Mrs. Branagan actually started at the bare idea of a contradiction, and
turned on him a look of fiery wrath, as she said:--

"Be my conscience you're bould to talk that way to me!--What wickedness!
Isn't horse-racing, card-playing, raffling, wickedness? Isn't drinking
and swearin' wickedness? Isn't it wickedness to kill three sheep a week,
and a cow a fortnight, to feed a set of dirty spalpeens of grooms and
stable chaps? Isn't it wickedness--botheration to you--but I wouldn't be
losing my time talking to you! When was one of ye at his duties? Answer
me