ow he made answer.

"I'm low at heart about it, none the less," he said. "War, my girl, is
a very dreadful thing." He had in his mind the words Colonel John had
used to him on that subject.

"And what is slavery?" she replied. There were red spots in her cheeks,
and her eyes shone.

"But if the yoke be made heavier, my jewel, and not lighter?"

"Then let us die!" she answered. "Let there be an end! For it is time.
But let us die free! As it is, do we not blush to own that we are
Irish? Is not our race the handmaid among nations? Then let us die!
What have we to live for? Our souls they will not leave us, our bodies
they enslave, they take our goods! What is left, Uncle Ulick?" she
continued passionately.

"Just to endure," he said sadly, "till better times. Or what if we make
things worse? Believe me, Flavvy, the last rising----"

"Rising!" she cried. "Rising! Why do you call it that? It was no
rising! It was the English who rose, and we who remained faithful to
our king. It was they who betrayed, and we who paid the penalty for
treason! Rising!"

"Call it what you like, my dear," he answered patiently, "'tis not
forgotten."

"Nor forgiven!" she cried fiercely.

"True! But the spirit is broken in us. If it were not, we should have
risen three years back, when the Scotch rose. There was a chance then.
But for us by ourselves there is no chance and no hope. And in this
little corner what do we know or hear? God forgive us, 'tis only what
comes from France and Spain by the free-traders that we'll be hearing."

"Uncle Ulick!" she answered, looking fixedly at him, "I know where you
get that from! I know who has been talking to you, and who"--her voice
trembled with anger--"has upset the house! It's meet that one who has
left the faith of his fathers, and turned his back on his country in
her trouble--it is well that he should try to make others act as he has
acted, and be false as he has been false! Caring for nothing himself,
cold, and heartless----"

He was about to interrupt her, but on the word the door opened and her
brother and Asgill entered, shaking the moisture from their coats. It
had begun to rain as they returned along the edge of the lake. She
dashed the tears from her eyes and was silent.

"Sure, and you've got a fine colour, my girl," The McMurrough said.
"Any news of the mare?" he continued, as he took the middle of the
hearth and spread his skirts to the blaze, Asgill remaining in the
backgro