room he had no thoughts of inheriting anything from her. Had he been
sure that by asking he could have induced her to make a will in his
favour, he would not have done so. But still his heart sunk a little
within him when he heard her declare that she was going to leave
everything back to her brother. It was, however, only for a moment; he
remembered his honest determination firmly and resolutely to protect
their joint property against any of her brother's attempts, should he
ever marry her; but in no degree to strive or even hanker after it,
unless it became his own in a fair, straightforward manner.

"Well, Anty; I think you're right," said he. "But wouldn't it all go to
Barry, nathurally, without your bothering yourself about a will, and
you so wake."

"In course it would, at laist I suppose so; but Martin," and she smiled
faintly as she looked up into his face, "I want the two dear, dear
girls, and I want yourself to have some little thing to remember me by;
and your dear kind mother,--she doesn't want money, but if I ask her to
take a few of the silver things in the house, I'm sure she'll keep them
for my sake. Oh, Martin! I do love you all so very--so very much!" and
the warm tears streamed down her cheeks.

Martin's eyes were affected, too: he made a desperate struggle to
repress the weakness, but he could not succeed, and was obliged to own
it by rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. "And I'm shure,
Anty," said he, "we all love you; any one must love you who knew you."
And then he paused: he was trying to say something of his own true
personal regard for her, but he hardly knew how to express it. "We all
love you as though you were one of ourselves--and so you are--it's all
the same--at any rate it is to me."