"The day was, Donnel," said Sullivan, whilst he pointed, with a sigh,
to the unfurnished chimney, "when we could give you--as I said awhile
agone--a betther welcome--in one sense--I mane betther tratement--than
we can give you now; but you know the times that is in it, an' you know
the down-come we have got, an' that the whole country has got--so you
must only take the will for the deed now--to such as we have you're
heartily welcome. Get us some dinner, Bridget," he added, turning to his
wife; "but, first and foremost, bring that girl into the room here till
she hears what I have to say to her; and, Donnel, as you wor a witness
to the disgraceful sight we seen a while agone, come in an' hear, too,
what I'm goin' to say to her. I'll have no black thraisin in my own
family against my own blood, an' against the blood of my loving brother,
that was so traicherously shed by that boy's father."

The persons he addressed immediately passed into the cold, damp room as
he spoke--Mave, the cause of all this anxiety, evidently in such a state
of excitement as was pitiable. Her mother, who, as well as every
other member of the family, had been ignorant of this extraordinary
attachment, seemed perfectly bewildered by the language of her husband,
at whom, as at her daughter, she looked with a face on which might be
read equal amazement and alarm.

Mave Sullivan was a young creature, shaped with extraordinary symmetry,
and possessed of great natural grace. Her stature was tall, and all
her motions breathed; unstudied ease and harmony. In color, her long,
abundant hair was beautifully fair--precisely of that delightful shade
which generally accompanies a pale but exquisitely clear and almost
transparent complexion. Her face was oblong, and her features so replete
with an expression of innocence and youth, as left on the beholder a