however, he composed himself, and calmly turned his eyes upon Sullivan,
who proceeded to address his daughter.

"You have nothing to say, then? You're guilty, an' of coorse you have
no excuse to make; however, I'll soon put an end to all this. Bring me a
prayerbook. If your book oath can bind you down against ever----"

He could proceed no further. On uttering the last words, his daughter
tottered, and would have fallen to the ground, had not Donnel Dhu caught
her in his arms. She had, in fact, become almost insensible from excess
of shame and over excitement, and, as Donnel carried her towards a bed
that was in the corner of the room, her head lay over against his face.

It is unnecessary to say that Sullivan's indignation was immediately
lost in alarm. On bringing the candle near her, the first thing they
observed were streaks of blood upon Donnel Dhu's face, that gave to it,
in connection with the mark of the blow he had received, a frightful and
hideous expression.

"What is this?" exclaimed her mother, seizing the candle and holding it
to the beautiful features of her trembling daughter, which were now also
dabbled with blood. "In God's name, what ails my child? O Mave, Mave,
my darlin', what's come over you? Blessed mother of marcy, what blood is
this? _Achora, machree_, Mave, spake to! me--to the mother that 'ud
go distracted, an' that will, too, if anything's wrong wid you. It was
cruel in you, Jerry, to spake to; her so harsh as you did, an' to take
her to task before a sthranger in such a cuttin' manner. Saiver of
Airth, Mave, darlin', won't you spake to me, to your own mother?"'

"Maybe I did spake to her too severely," said the father, now relenting,