r if there
remained behind him any individual against whom he entertained a spirit
of enmity. If there were he begged him to make no scruple in entrusting
to him a full statement of his wishes on the subject, adding that he
might rest assured of having them accomplished.

"One thing you may be certain of, Nogher," said he, to the affectionate
fellow, "that I have no secrets to tell; so don't let that go abroad
upon me. I have heard to-day," he added, "that the vessel we are to go
in will sail on this day week. My father was here this mornin'; but I
hadn't heard it then. Will you, Nogher, tell my mother privately that
she mustn't come to see me on the day I appointed with my father? From
the state of health she's in, I'm tould she couldn't bear it. Tell her,
then, not to come till the day before I sail; an' that I will expect
to see her early on that day. And, Nogher, as you know more about this
unhappy business than any one else, except the O'Briens and ourselves,
will you give this little packet to my mother? There's three or four
locks of my hair in it; one of them is for Una; and desire my mother to
see Una, and to get a link of her hair to wear next my heart. My poor
father--now that he finds he must part with me--is so distracted and
distressed, that I couldn't trust him with this message. I want it to
be kept a secret to every one but you, my mother, and Una; but my poor
father would he apt to mention it in some fit of grief."

"But is there nothing else on your mind, Connor?"

"There's no heavy guilt on my mind, Nogher, I thank my God and my dear
mother for it."

"Well, I can tell you one thing before you go, Connor--Bartle Flanagan's
well watched. If he has been guilty--if--derry downs, who doubts
it'?--well never mind; I'll hould a trifle we get him to show the cloven
foot, and condemn himself yet."

"The villain," said Connor, "will be too deep--too polished for you."

"Ten to one he's not. Do you know what we've found out since this
business?"

"No."

"Why, the divil resave the squig of punch, whiskey, or liquor of any
sort or size he'll allow to pass the lips of him. Now, Connor, aren't
you up to the cunnin' villainy of the thraitor in that maynewvre?"

"I am, Nogher; I see his design in it. He is afeard if he got drunk that
he wouldn't be able to keep his own secret."

"Ah, then, by the holy Nelly, we'll sleep him yet, or he'll look sharp.
Never you mind him, Connor."

"Nogher! stop," said Con