rness, more deep and full than he had probably ever experienced
before. Her brother would have been received with extraordinary warmth
on his own account, but, in addition to that, Connor knew that he now
came on behalf of Una herself. It was, therefore, under a tumult of
mingled sensations, that he received him in his gloomy apartment--gloomy
in despite of all that a humane jailer could do to lessen the rigors of
his confinement.

"I cannot welcome you to sich a place, as this is," said Connor,
grasping and wringing his hand, as the other entered, "although I may
well say that I would be glad to see you anywhere, as I am, indeed, to
see you even here. I know what I owe you, an' what you have done for
me."

"Thank God," replied the other, returning his grasp with equal pressure,
"thank God, that, at all events, the worst of what we expected will
not----" He paused, for, on looking at O'Donovan, he observed upon
his open brow a singular depth of melancholy, mingled less with an
expression of shame, than with the calm but indignant sorrow of one who
could feel no resentment against him with whom he spoke.

O'Brien saw, at a glance, that Connor, in consequence of something in
his manner, joined to his inconsiderate congratulations, imagined that
he believed him guilty. He lost not a moment, therefore, in correcting
this mistake.

"It would have been dreadful," he proceeded, "to see innocent blood
shed, through the perjury of a villain--for, of course, you cannot
suppose for a moment that one of our family suppose you to be guilty."

"I was near doin' you injustice, then," replied the other; "but I ought
to know that if you did think me so, you wouldn't now be here, nor
act as you did. Not but that I thought it possible, on another account
you----No," he added, after a pause, "that would be doin' the brother
of Una injustice."

"You are right," returned O'Brien. "No circumstance of any kind"--and
he laid a peculiar emphasis on the words--"no circumstance of any kind
could bring me to visit a man capable of such a mean and cowardly act;
for, as to the loss we sustained, I wouldn't think of it. You, Connor
O'Donovan, are not the man to commit any act, either the one or the
other. If I did not feel this, you would not see me before you."
He extended his hand to him while he spoke, and the brow of Connor
brightened as he met his grasp.

"I believe you," he replied; "and now I hope we may spake out like men
that undhers