Now, Kathleen," she added, laughing, "if you should spoil a priest
afther all! Well! un-likelier things have happened."
"That may be," replied Kathleen, "but this won't happen for all that,
Hanna. Go, there he's calling for you again."
"Yes--yes," she shouted; "throth, among you all, Kathleen, you're making
a regular go-between of me. My father thinks I can turn you round my
finger, and Bryan M'Mahon thinks--yes, I'm goin'," she answered again.
"Well, keep up your spirits; I'll soon have news for you about this
spoiled priest."
"Poor Hanna," thought Kathleen; "where was there ever such a sister? She
does all she can to keep my spirits up; but it can't be. How can I see
him ruined and beggared, that had the high spirit and the true heart?"
Hanna, her father, and mother, held a tolerably long discussion
together, in which Kathleen could only hear the tones of their voices
occasionally. It was evident, however, by the emphatic intonations of
the old couple, that they were urging some certain point, which her
faithful sister was deprecating, sometimes, as Kathleen could learn, by
seriousness, and at other times by mirth. At length she returned with
a countenance combating between seriousness and jest; the seriousness,
however, predominating.
"Kathleen," said she, "you never had a difficulty before you until now.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310