either."

"Mother, mother, you know it's the last time I'll ever look upon my
Una's face again," he exclaimed. "Oh, well may I be loath an' unwillin'
to part with her. You'll think of me, my darlin' life, when I'm
gone--not as a guilty man, Una dear, but as one that if he ever
committed a crime, it was lovin' you an' bringin' you to this unhappy
state."

"God sees my heart this day," she replied--and she spoke with
difficulty--"that I could and would have travelled over the world;
borne joy and sorrow, hardship and distress--good fortune and bad--all
happily, if you had been by my side--if you had not been taken from
me. Oh, Connor, Connor, you may well pity your Una--for yours I am and
was--another's I never will be. You are entering into scenes that will
relieve you by their novelty--that will force you to think of other
things and of other persons than those you've left behind you; but
oh, what Can I look upon that will not fill my heart with despair and
sorrow, by reminding me of you and your affection?"

"Fareer gair," exclaimed the mother, speaking involuntarily aloud, and
interrupting her own words with sobs of bitter anguish--"Fareer gair,
ma colleen dhas, but that's the heavy truth with us all. Oh, the ould
man--the ould man's heart will break all out, when he looks upon the
place, an' everything else that our boy left behind him."

"Dear Una," said Connor, "you know that we're partin' now forever."

"My breaking heart tells me that," she replied. "I would give the wealth
of the world that it was not so--I would--I would."

"Listen to me, my own life. You must not let love for me lie so
heavy upon your heart. Go out and keep your mind employed upon other
thoughts--by degrees you'll forget--no, I don't think you could
altogether forget me--me--the first, Una, you ever loved."

"And the last, Connor--the last I ever will love."

"No, no. In the presence of my lovin' mother I say that you must not
think that way. Time will pass, my own Una, an' you will yet be happy
with some other. You're very young; an', as I said, time will wear me by
degrees out of your mimory."--

Una broke hastily from his embrace, for she lay upon his breast all this
time--

"Do you think so, Connor O'Donovan?" she exclaimed; but on looking into
his face, and reading the history of deep--seated sorrow which appeared
there so legible, she again "fled to him and wept."

"Oh, no," she continued, "I cannot quarrel with you now; but