Chapter 12. Mystery Among The Hogans

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_ CHAPTER XII. Mystery Among the Hogans

--Finigan Defends the Absent.

The three Hogans, whom we have lost sight of for some time, were, as our readers already know, three most unadulterated ruffians, in every sense of that most respectable term. Yet, singular as it may appear, notwithstanding their savage brutality, they were each and all possessed of a genius for mechanical inventions and manual dexterity that was perfectly astonishing when the low character of their moral, and intellectual standard is considered. Kate Hogan, who, from her position, could not possibly be kept out of their secrets, at least for any length of time, was forced to notice of late that there was a much closer and more cautious intimacy between Hycy Burke and them than she had ever observed before. She remarked, besides, that not only was Teddy Phats excluded from their councils, but she herself was sent out of the way, whenever Hycy paid them a visit, which uniformly occurred at a late hour, in the night.

Another circumstance also occurred about this time which puzzled her not a little: we mean the unusual absence of Philip for about a fortnight from home. Now, there certainly nothing more offensive, especially to a female, than the fact of excluding her from the knowledge of any secret, a participation in which she may consider as a right. In her case she felt that it argued want of confidence, and as she had never yet betrayed any trust or secret reposed in her, she considered their conduct towards her, not merely as an insult, but such as entitled them to nothing at her hands but resentment, and a determination to thwart their plans, whatever they might be, as soon as she should succeed in making herself acquainted with them. What excited her resentment the more bitterly was the arrival of a strange man and woman in company with Philip, as she was able to collect, from the metropolis, to the former of whom they all seemed to look with much deference as to a superior spirit of the secret among them this man and his wife were clearly in possession, as was evident from their whisperings and other conversations, which they held apart, and uniformly out of her hearing. It is true the strangers did not reside with the Hogans, but in a small cabin adjacent to that in which Finigan taught his school. Much of the same way of thinking was honest Teddy Phats, whom they had now also abandoned, or rather completely cast off, and, what was still worse, deprived of the whole apparatus for distillation, which, although purchased by Hycy Burke's money, they very modestly appropriated to themselves. Teddy, however, as well as Kate, knew that they were never cautious without good reason, and as it had pleased them to cut him, as the phrase goes, so did he, as Kate had done, resolve within himself to penetrate their secret, if human ingenuity could effect it.

In this position they were when honest Philip returned, as we have said, after a fortnight's absence, from some place or places unknown. The mystery, however, did not end here. Kate observed that, as before, much of their conversation was held aloof from her, or in such enigmatical phrases and whisperings, as rendered the substance of it perfectly inscrutable to her. She observed, besides, that two of them were frequently absent from the kiln where they lived; but that one always remained at home to make certain that she should not follow or dog them to the haunt they frequented. This precaution on their part was uniform. As it was, however, Kate did not seem to notice it. On the contrary, no one could exhibit a more finished appearance of stupid indifference than she assumed upon these occasions, even although she knew by the removal of the tools, or a portion of them, that her friends were engaged in some business belonging to their craft. In this manner matters proceeded for some weeks subsequent to the period of Philip's return.

Kate also observed, with displeasure, that among all those who joined in the outcry against Bryan M'Mahon, none made his conduct, such as it was conceived to have been, a subject of more brutal and bitter triumph than the Hogans. The only circumstance connected with him which grieved them to the heart, was the fact that the distillation plot had not ruined him as they expected it would have done. His disgrace, however, and unjust ejectment from Ahadarra filled them with that low, ruffianly sense of exultation, than which, coming from such scoundrels, there is scarcely anything more detestable in human nature.

One evening about this time they were sitting about the fire, the three brothers, Kate, and the young unlicked savages of the family, when Philip, after helping himself to a glass of quints, said,--

"At any rate, there'll be no match between Miss Kathleen and that vagabond, Bryan M'Mahon. I think we helped to put a nail in his coffin there, by gob."

"Ay," said Kate, "an' you may boast of it, you unmanly vagabone; an' yet you purtind to have a regard for the poor girl, an' a purty way you tuck to show it--to have her as she is, goin' about wid a pale face an' a broken heart. Don't you see it's her more than him you're punishin', you savage of hell?"

"You had betther keep your tongue off o' me," he replied; "I won't get into grips wid you any more, you barge o' blazes; but, if you provoke me wid bad language, I'll give you a clink wid one o' these sotherin'-irons that'll put a clasp on your tongue."

"Never attempt that," she replied fiercely, "for, as sure as you do, I'll have this knife," showing him a large, sharp-pointed one, which, in accordance with the customs of her class, hung by a black belt of strong leather from her side--"I'll have this customer here greased in your puddins, my buck, and, when the win's out o' you, see what you'll be worth--fit for Captain James's hounds; although I dunno but the very dogs themselves is too clane to ait you."

"Come," said Bat, "we'll have no more o' this; do you, Philip, keep quiet wid your sotherin'-iron, and, as for you, Kate, don't dhraw me upon you; na ha nan shin--it isn't Philip you have. I say I'm right well plaised that we helped to knock up the match."

"Don't be too sure," replied Kate, "that it is knocked up; don't now, mind my words; an' take care that, instead of knockin' it up, you haven't knocked yourselves down. Chew your cud upon that now."

"What does she mane?" asked Ned, looking on her with a baleful glance, in which might be read equal ferocity and alarm. "Why, traichery, of coorse," replied Philip, in his deep, glowing voice. "Kate," said her husband, starting into something' like an incipient fit of fury, but suddenly checking himself--"Kate, my honey, what do you mane by them words?"

"What do I mane by them words?" she exclaimed, with an eye which turned on him with cool defiance; "pick that out o' your larnin', Bat, my pet. You can all keep your saicrets; an' I'll let you know that I can keep mine."

"Be the Holy St. Lucifer," said her husband, "if I wanst thought that traichery 'ud enter your head, I'd take good care that it's in hell you'd waken some fine mornin' afore long. So mind yourself, Kate, my honey."

"Are you in nobody else's power but mine?" she replied, "ax yourselves that--an' now do you mind yourself, Bat, my pet, and all o' yez."

"What is the raison," asked her husband, "that I see you an' Nanny Peety colloguin' an' huggermuggerin' so often together of late?"

"Ah," she replied, with a toss of disdain, "what a manly fellow you are to want to get into women's saicrets! you may save your breath though."

"Whatever you collogue about, all I say is, that I don't like a bone in the same Nanny Peety's body. She has an eye in her head that looks as if it knew one's thoughts."

"An' maybe it does. One thing I know, and every one knows it, that it's a very purty eye."

"Tell her, then, to keep out o' this; we want no spies here."

"Divil a word of it; she's my niece, an' the king's highway is as free to her as it is to you or anybody else. She'll be welcome to me any time she comes, an' let me see who'll dare to mislist her. She feels as she ought to do, an' as every woman ought to do, ay, an' every man, too, that is a man, or anything but a brute an' a coward--she feels for that unfortunate, heart-broken girl 'ithout;' an' it'll be a strange thing if them that brought her to what she's sufferin' won't suffer themselves yet; there's a God above still, I hope, glory be to His name! Traichery!" she exclaimed; "ah, you ill-minded villains, it's yourselves you're thinkin' of, an' what you desarve. As for myself, it's neither you nor your villainy that's in my head, but the sorrowful heart that's in that poor girl 'ithout--ay, an' a broken one; for, indeed, broked it is; and it's not long she'll be troub'lin' either friend or foe in this world. The curse o' glory upon you all, you villains, and upon every one that had a hand in bringing her to this!"

Having uttered these words, she put her cloak and bonnet upon her, and left the house, adding as she went out, "if it's any pleasure to you to know it, I'll tell you. I'm goin' to meet Nancy Peety this minute, an' you never seen sich colloguin' an' hugger-muggerin' as we'll have, plaise goodness--ah, you ill-thinkin', skulkin' villains!"

Kate Hogan, though a tigress when provoked, and a hardened, reckless creature, scarcely remarkable for any particular virtue that could be enumerated, and formidable from that savage strength and intrepidity for which she was so well known, was yet not merely touched by the sufferings of Kathleen Cavanagh, but absolutely took an interest in them, at once so deep and full of sympathy, as to affect her temper and disturb her peace of mind. Notwithstanding her character she was still a woman; and, in matters involving the happiness of an innocent and beautiful creature of her own sex, who had been so often personally kind to herself, and whose family were protectors and benefactors to her and her kindred, she felt as a woman. Though coarse-minded upon most many matters, she was yet capable of making the humane distinction which her brutal relatives could not understand or feel;--we mean the fact that, in having lent themselves to the base conspiracy planned and concocted by Hycy Burke, and in having been undoubtedly the cause of M'Mahon's disgrace, as well as of his projected marriage with Kathleen having been broken up, they did not perceive that she was equally a sufferer; or, if they did, they were either too cunning or too hardened to acknowledge it. For this particular circumstance, Kate, inasmuch as it involved deep ingratitude on their part, could not at all forgive them.

At this time, indeed, the melancholy position of Kathleen Cavanagh was one which excited profound and general sorrow; and just in proportion as this was sincere, so was the feeling of indignation against him whose corruption and want of principle were supposed to have involved her in their consequences. Two months or better of the period allotted by Kathleen to the vindication of his character, had now elapsed, and yet nothing had been done to set himself right either with her or the world. She consequently argued and with apparent reason, that everything in the shape of justification was out of his power, and this reflection only deepened her affliction. Yes, it deepened her affliction; but it did not; on that account succeed in enabling her to obliterate his image the more easily from her heart. The fact was, that despite the force and variety of the rumors that were abroad against him--and each succeeding week brought in some fresh instance of his duplicity and profligacy, thanks to the ingenious and fertile malignity of Hycy the accomplished--despite of this, and despite of all, the natural reaction of her heart had set in--their past endearments, their confidence their tenderness, their love, now began, after the first vehement expression of pride and high principle had exhausted the offended mind of its indignation, to gradually resume their influence over her. A review, besides, of her own conduct towards her lover was by no means satisfactory to her. Whilst she could not certainly but condemn him, she felt as if she had judged him upon a principle at once too cold and rigorous. Indeed, now that a portion of time had enabled her mind to cool, she could scarcely understand why it was that she had passed, so harsh a sentence upon him. She was not, however, capable of analyzing her own mind and feelings upon the occasion, or she might have known that her severity towards the man I was the consequence, on her part, of that innate scorn and indignation which pure and lofty minds naturally entertain against everything dishonorable and base, and that it is a very difficult thing to disassociate the crime from the criminal, even in cases where the latter may have had a strong hold upon the affections of such a noble nature. Nay, the very fact of finding that one's affections have been fixed upon a person capable of such dishonor, produces a double portion of indignation at the discovery of their profligacy, because it supposes, in the first place, that something like imposture must have been practised upon us in securing our affections, or what is still more degrading, that we must have been materially devoid of common penetration, or we could not have suffered ourselves to become the dupe of craft and dissimulation.

Our high-minded heroine, however, had no other theory upon the subject of her own feelings, than that she loved her religion and its precepts, and detested every word that was at variance with truth, and every act inconsistent with honesty and that faithful integrity which resists temptation and corruption in whatever plausible shapes they may approach it.

Be this, however, as it may, she now found that, as time advanced, her heart began to fall into its original habits. The tumult occasioned by the shock resulting from her lover's want of integrity, had now nearly passed away, and the affection of the woman began to supersede the severity of the judge. By degrees she was enabled, as we have said, to look back upon her conduct, and to judge, of her lover through the more softened medium of her reviving affection. This feeling gained upon her slowly but surely, until her conscience became, alarmed at the excess of her own severity towards him. Still, however, she would occasionally return, as it were, to a contemplation of his delinquency, and endeavor, from an unconscious principle of self-love, to work herself up into that lofty hatred of dishonor which had prompted his condemnation; but the effort was in vain. Every successive review of his guilt was attended by a consciousness that she had been righteous overmuch, and that the consequences of his treason, even against their common religion, were not only rapidly diminishing in her heart, but yielding to something that very nearly resembled remorse.

Such was the state of her feelings on the day when Kate Hogan and her male relatives indulged in the friendly and affectionate dialogue we have just detailed. Her heart was smitten, in fact, with sorrow for the harsh part she had taken against her lover, and she only waited for an opportunity to pour out a full confession of all she felt into the friendly ear of her sister.

Gerald Cavanagh's family at this period was darkened by a general spirit of depression and gloom. Their brother James, from whatever cause it may have proceeded, seemed to be nearly as much cast down as his sister; and were it not that Cavanagh himself and his wife sustained themselves by a hope that Kathleen might ultimately relax so far as to admit, as she had partly promised to do, the proposals of Edward Burke, it would have been difficult to find so much suffering apart from death under the same roof.

On the day in question, our friend O'Finigan, whose habits of intemperance had by no means diminished, called at Cavanagh's, as he had been in the habit of doing. Poor Kathleen was now suffering, besides, under the consequences of the injunction not to mention M'Mahon's name, which she had imposed upon her own family--an injunction which they had ever since faithfully observed. It was quite evident from the unusually easy fluency of O'Finigan's manner, that he had not confined his beverages, during the day, to mere water. Hanna, on seeing him enter, said to Kathleen, in a whisper,--

"Hadn't you better come out and take a walk, Kathleen? This O'Finigan is almost tipsy, and you know he'll be talking about certain subjects you don't wish to hear."

"Time enough, dear Hanna," she replied, with a sorrowful look at her sister, "my heart is so full of suffering and pain that almost anything will relieve it. You know I was always amused by Finigan's chat." Her sister, who had not as yet been made acquainted with the change which had taken place in her heart, on hearing these words looked at her closely, and smiled sorrowfully, but in such a manner as if she had at that moment experienced a sensation of pleasure, if not of hope. Hitherto, whenever a neighbor or stranger came in, Kathleen, fearing that the forbidden name might become the topic of conversation, always retired, either to another room or left the house altogether, in order to relieve her own family from the painful predicament in which their promise of silence to her had placed them. On this occasion, however, Hanna perceived with equal surprise and pleasure that she kept her ground.

"Sit ye, merry jinteels!" said Finigan, as he entered; "I hope I see you all in good health and spirits; I hope I do; although I am afraid if what fame--an' by the way, Mrs. Cavanagh, my classicality tells me, that the poet Maro blundered like a Hibernian, when he made the same fame a trumpeter, in which, wid the exception of one point, he was completely out of keeping. There's not in all litherature another instance of a female trumpeter; and for sound raisons--if the fair sex were to get possession of the tuba, God help the world, for it would soon be a noisy one. However, let me recollect myself--where was I? Oh! ay--I am afraid that if what fame says--an' by the way, her trumpet must have been a speaking one--be true, that there's a fair individual here whose spirits are not of the most exalted character; and indeed, and as I am the noblest work of God--an honest man--I feel sorry to hear the fact."

The first portion of this address, we need scarcely say, was the only part of it which was properly understood, if we except a word or two at the close.

"God save you, Misther Finigan."

"O'Finigan, if you plase, Mrs. Cavanagh."

"Well, well," she replied, "O'Finigan, since it must be so; but in troth I can!t always remember it, Misther Finigan, in regard that you didn't always stand out for it yourself. Is there any news stirrin', you that's abroad?"

"Not exactly news, ma'am; but current reports that are now no novelty. The M'Mahon's--"

"Oh, never mind them," exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh, glancing at her daughter, "if you have any 'other news let us hear it--pass over the M'Mahons--they're not worth our talk, at least some o' them."

"Pardon me, Mrs. Cavanagh;--if Achilles at the head of his myrmidons was to inform me to that effect, I'd tell him he had mistaken his customer. My principle, ma'am--and 'tis one I glory in--is to defend the absent in gineral, for it is both charitable and ginerous to do so--in gineral, I say; but when I know that they are unjustly aspersed, I contemplate it as' an act of duty on my part to vindicate them."

"Well," replied Mrs. Cavanagh, "that's all very right an' thrue, Mr. Finigan."

"It is, Mr. Finig--O'Finigan," observed James Cavanagh, who was present, "and your words are a credit and an honor to you."

"Thanks, James, for the compliment; for it is but truth. The scandal I say (he proceeded without once regarding the hint: thrown out by Mrs. Cavanagh) which has! been so studiously disseminated against Bryan M'Mahon--spare your nods and winks, Mrs. Cavanagh, for if you winked at me with as many eyes as Argus had, and nodded at me wid as many heads as Hydra, or that baste in the Revelaytions, I'd not suppress a syllable of truth;--no, ma'am, the suppressio veri's no habit of mine; and I say and assert--ay, and asseverate--that that honest and high-spirited young man, named Bryan or Bernard M'Mahon, is the victim of villany and falsehood--ay, of devilish hatred and ingenious but cowardly vituperation."

"Kathleen," whispered her sister, "will you come out, darlin'? this talk must be painful to you."

Kathleen gave her a look of much mingled sorrow and entreaty as went to her heart. Hanna, whose head had been lovingly reclining on her sister's bosom, pressed her gently but affectionately to her heart, and made no reply.

"You wor always a friend of his," replied Mrs. Cavanagh, "an' of course you spake as a friend."

"Yes," said Finigan, "I always was a friend of his, because I always knew his honesty, his love of truth, his hatred of a mane action, ay, and his generosity and courage. I knew him from the very egg, I may say--ab ovo--Mrs. Cavanagh; it was I instilled his first principles into him. Oh! I know well! I never had a scholar I was so proud out of. Hycy Burke was smart, quick, and cunning; but then he was traicherous--something of a coward when he had his match--strongly addicted to fiction in most of his narratives, and what was still a worse point about him, he had the infamous ingenuity, whenever he had a point to gain--such as belying a boy and taking away his characther--of making truth discharge all the blackguard duties of falsehoood. Oh! I know them both well! But who among all I ever enlightened wid instruction was the boy that always tould the truth, even when it went against himself?--why, Bryan M'Mahon. Who ever defended the absent?--why, Bryan M'Mahon. Who ever and always took the part of the weak and defenceless against the strong and tyrannical?--why, Bryan M'Mahon. Who fought for his religion, too, when the young heretics used to turn it, or try to turn it, into ridicule--ay, and when cowardly and traicherous Hycy used to sit quietly by, and either put the insult in his pocket, or curry favor wid the young sneering vagabonds that abused it? And yet, at the time Hycy was a thousand times a greater little bigot than Bryan. The one, wid a juvenile rabble at his back, three to one, was a tyrant over the young schismatics; whilst Bryan, like a brave youth as he was, ever and always protected them against the disadvantage of numbers, and insisted on showing them fair play. I am warm, Mrs. Cavanagh," he continued, "and heat, you know, generates thirst. I know that a drop o' the right sort used to be somewhere undher this same roof; but I'm afraid if the fama clamosa be thrue, that the side of the argument I have taken isn't exactly such as to guarantee me a touch at the native--that is, taking it for granted that there's any in the house."

This request was followed by a short silence. The Cavanagh's all, with the exception of Kathleen, looked at each other, but every eye was marked either by indecision or indifference. At length Hanna looked at her sister, and simply said, "dear Kathleen!"

"He has done," replied the latter, in a low voice, "what I had not the generosity to do--he has defended the absent."

"Darling Kathleen," Hanna whispered, and then pressed her once more to her heart. "You must have it, Mr. O'Finigan," said she--"you must have it, and that immediately;" and as she spoke, she proceeded to a cupboard from which she produced a large black bottle, filled with that peculiar liquid to which our worthy pedagogue was so devotedly addicted.

"Ah," said he, on receiving a bumper from the fair hand of Hanna, "let the M'Mahons alone for the old original--indeed I ought to say--aboriginal hospitality. Thanks, Miss Hanna; in the meantime I will enunciate a toast, and although we shall not draw very strongly upon sentiment for the terms, it shall be plain and pithy; here is 'that the saddle of infamy may be soon placed upon the right horse,' and maybe there's an individual not a thousand miles from us, and who is besides not altogether incognizant of the learned languages, including a tolerably comprehensive circle of mathematics, who will, to a certain extent, contribute to the consummation of that most desirable event; here then, I repate, is the toast--'may the saddle of infamy soon be placed upon the right horse!'"

Having drunk off the glass, he turned the mouth of it down upon his corduroy breeches, as an intimation that he might probably find it necessary to have recourse to it again.

Hanna observed, or rather we should say, felt, that as Finigan proceeded with his reminiscences of M'Mahon's school-boy days and the enumeration of his virtues, her sister's heart and bosom quivered with deep and almost irrepressible emotion. There was a good deal of enthusiasm in the man's manner, because he was in earnest, and it was quite evident that Kathleen's spirit had caught it as he went along, and that her heart recognized the truth of the picture which he was drawing. We say she literally felt the quiverings of her sister's heart against her own, and to do the admirable girl justice, she rejoiced to recognize these manifestations of returning affection.

"It was only yesterday," continued Finigan, resuming the discourse, "that I met Bryan M'Mahon, and by the way, he has sorrow and distress, poor fellow, in his face. 'Bryan,' said I, 'is it true that you and your father's family are preparing to go to that refugium peccatorum, America--that overgrown cupping-glass which is drawing the best blood of our country out of it?'

"'The people of Ireland,' he replied, 'have a right to bless God that there is such a country to fly to, and to resave them from a land where they're neglected and overlooked. It is true, Mr. O'Finigan,' he proceeded--!' we have nothing in this country to live for now.'

"'And so you are preparing?' I asked.

"'I ought rather say,' he replied, 'that we are prepared; we go in another month; I only wish we were there already.'

"'I fear, Bryan,' said I, 'that you have not been well trated of late.' He looked at me with something like surprise, but said nothing; and in a quarter, I added, 'that was the last from which you were prepared to expect justice without mercy.'

"'I don't understand you,' he replied sharply; 'what do you mean?'

"'Bryan,' said I, 'I scorn a moral circumbendibus where the direct truth is necessary; I have heard it said, and I fear it is burthened wid too much uncomfortable veracity, that Kathleen Cavanagh has donned the black cap* in doing the judicial upon you, and that she considers her sentence equal to the laws of the Medes and Persians, unchangeable--or, like those of our own blessed church--wid reverence be the analogy made--altogether infallible.' His eye blazed as I spoke; he caught me where by the collar wid a grip that made me quake--'Another word against Kathleen Cavanagh,' he replied, 'and I will shake every joint of your carcass out of its place.' His little sister, Dora, was wid him at the time; 'Give him a shake or two as it is,' she added, egging him on, 'for what he has said already;' throth she's a lively little lady that, an' if it wasn't that she has a pair of dark shining eyes, and sweet features--ay, and as coaxin' a figure of her own--however, sorra may care, somehow, I defy any one to, be angry wid her."

* Alluding to the practice of putting on the black cap when the Judge condemns a felon to death.

"Come, Mr. O'Finigan," said James, approaching him, "you must have another glass."

"Well no, James," he replied, "I think not."

"Faith, but I say you will; if it was only to hear what Dora--hem--what Bryan said.

"Very well," said the master, allowing him to take the glass which he received again brimming, "thanks, James."

"'Well,' said Bryan, lettin' go my collar, 'blame any one you like; blame me, blame Vanston, blame Chevydale, Fethertonge, anybody, everybody, the Priest, the Bishop, the Pope,--but don't dare to blame Kathleen Cavanagh.'

"'Why,' said I, 'has she been right in her condemnation of you?'

"'She has,' he replied, with a warmth of enthusiasm which lit up his whole features; 'she has done nothing but what was right. She just acted as she ought, and all I can say is, that I know I'm not worthy of her, and never was. God bless her!'

"'And don't let me hear,' said Dora, taking up the dialogue, 'that ever you'll mention her name wid disrespect--mark that, Mr. O'Finigan, or it'll be worse for you a thrifle.'

"Her brother looked on her wid complacent affection, and patting her on the head, said, 'Come, darling, don't beat him now. You see the risk you run,' he added, as they went away, 'so don't draw down Dora's vengeance on your head. She might forgive you an offence against herself; but she won't forgive you one against Kathleen Cavanagh; and, Mister O'Finigan, neither will I.'"

"Masther," said James Cavanagh, "you'll stop to-night with us?"

"No, James, I have an engagement of more importance than you could ever dhrame of, and about--but I'm not free or at liberty to develop the plot--for plot it is--at any greater length. Many thanks to you in the mane time for your hospitable intentions; but before I go, I have a word to say. Now, what do you think of that young man's ginerosity, who would rather have himself thought guilty than have her thought wrong; for, whisper,--I say he's not guilty, and maybe--but, no ruatther, time will tell, and soon tell, too, plaise God."

So saying he took up his hat, and politely wished them a pleasant evening, but firmly refused to taste another drop of liquor, "lest," he added, "it might denude him of the necessary qualifications for accomplishing the enterprise on which he was bint."

When he was gone, Kathleen brought her sister to their own room, and throwing herself on her bosom, she spoke not, but wept calmly and in silence for about twenty minutes.

"Kathleen," said Hanna, "I am glad to see this, and I often wished for it."

"Whisht, dear Hanna," she replied; "don't speak to me at present. I'm not fit to talk on that unfortunate subject yet. 'Forgive us our trespassess as we--we--forgive them that trespass against us!' Oh! Hanna darling, how have I prayed?" They then rejoined the family. _

Read next: Chapter 23. Harry Clinton's Benevolence Defeated

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