The Macdermots of Ballycloran. Anthony Trollope

made no reply; the Captain twirled his hat, and ceremoniously bowing to the lady, took his leave.

      Thady had screwed his courage to the sticking point while the Captain was the foe with whom he had to contend, and he had carried on the battle manfully while he spoke to Feemy in the Captain's presence; but to tell the truth, when he heard the clatter of his horse's feet he almost wished him back again, or that Feemy was away with him to Aughermore. He was puzzled how to begin; he could not think what he was to say; was he to quarrel with his sister for having a lover without telling him? was he to put it on the ground that her lover was a Protestant? That would have been the easiest line, but then Father John had especially barred that! Was he to scold her because her lover would not marry her at once? That seemed unreasonable. It had never occurred to him, in his indignation, to think of these difficulties, and he now stood with his back to the fire, looking awfully black, but saying nothing.

      "Well, Thady, what is it I'll be doing for you, instead of going to Aughermore this morning?" at last said Feemy, the first to begin the disagreeable conversation.

      When Thady looked up, thinking what to answer to this plain speech, his eye, luckily for him, fell on the new Mohill collar.

      "Where were you getting that collar, Feemy?"

      "And are you afther making me stay at home all the blessed day, and sending Captain Ussher all the way back to Mohill, and he having come over here by engagement to walk with me,"—this was a fib of Feemy's—"and all to ask me where I got a new collar?"

      "May be I was, Feemy, and may be I wasn't; but I suppose there isn't any harum in my asking the question, or in you answering it?"

      "Oh no, not the laist; only it ain't usual in you to be asking such questions."

      "But if there's no harum, I ask it now; where were you getting the collar?"

      "Well, you're very queer; but if you must know, Captain Ussher brought it with him from Mohill."

      "And if you wanted a parcel from Mohill, why couldn't you let Brady bring it, who is in it constantly, instead of that upstart policeman, who'd think it more condescension to bring that from Mohill, than I would to be carrying a sack of potatoes so far."

      "There then you're wrong; the policeman, as you're pleased to call him, thinks no such thing."

      "Well, Feemy, but did you bid him bring it, or did he bring it of his own accord?"

      Feemy could now shuffle no longer, so blushing slightly, she said, "Well, if you must know then, it was a present; and there's no such great harm in that, I suppose."

      Here Thady was again bothered; he really did not know whether there was any harm in it or not; a week ago he certainly would have thought not, but he was now inclined to think that there was; but he was not sure, and he sadly wished for Father John to tell him what to do.

      "Well, Thady, now what was it you were wanting of me?"—and then after a pause, she added, her courage rising as she saw her brother's falling: "Was it anything about Captain Ussher?"

      "Yes, it was."

      "Well?"

      "Is there anything between you and he, Feemy?"

      "What do you mean by between us, Thady?" and Feemy made a little fruitless attempt to laugh.

      "Well then; you're in love with him, ain't you? there now, that's the long and the short."

      "Supposing I was, why shouldn't I?"

      "Only this, Feemy, he's not in love with you."

      This put Feemy's back up, "'Deed then, it's little you know about it, for he just is; and I love him too with all my heart, and that's all about it; and you might have found that out without sending him back to Mohill."

      "I wish then he'd stay at Mohill, and that I might never see him over the door at Ballycloran again!"

      "That's kind of you, Thady, after what I just told you; but don't tell him so, that's all."

      "But it's just what I mane to tell him, and what I shall go over to Mohill on purpose to tell him, to-morrow."

      "Good gracious, Thady! and for why?"

      "For why, Feemy! becase I still want to see my father's daughter an honest woman, though she may be soon a beggar; becase I don't want to see my sister crouching under a blackguard's foot; becase I don't want the worst disgrace that can happen a family to blacken the name of Macdermot!"

      Feemy was now really surprised; fear at her brother's strange words brought out at once what was ever most present in her mind.

      "Oh, heavens, Thady! sure we're to be married."

      It must be remembered that this was not an interview between a fashionable brother and an elegant sister, both highly educated, in which the former had considered himself called upon to remonstrate with the latter for having waltzed too often with the same gentleman, and in which any expression of actual blame would highly offend the delicacy of the lady. Thady and his sister had not been accustomed to delicacy; and though she was much shocked at his violence, she hardly felt the strong imputation against herself, as she had so good an answer for it. She therefore exclaimed,

      "Oh heavens, Thady, sure we're to be married."

      "Well, now, Feemy, jist listen to me. If Captain Ussher manes to marry you, under all circumstances, I don't know you could do better. I don't like him, as how should I, for isn't he a Protestant, and a low-born, impudent ruffian? but you do like him, and I suppose, if he marries you, it's becase he likes you; if not, why should he do it? And when once married, you'll have to fight your own battles, and no joke it'll be for either of you. But if, as I'm thinking, he has no idea on arth of marrying you, no more than he has of Mary Brady, I'll be d——d if I let him come here fooling you, though you haven't sperit enough to prevent it yourself. We're low enough already, Feemy, but for heaven's sake don't be making us lower yet!"

      "Well, now, Thady, is that all? and you're wrong then, as you always are, for Captain Ussher has asked me to have him, just as plain as I'm telling you now; and he's no ruffian. It is you're the ruffian to him, snubbing him when he speaks good-naturedly to you. And as for being a Protestant, I suppose he's none the worse for that, if he's none the better. I don't know why you do be hating him so, unless it's because I love him."

      "I'm not talking about my hating him, or loving him. If he's honest to you, I'll neither say nor do anything to cross him. But if he does mane to marry you, it's time he did it; that's all. Did he say anything to father about it?"

      "What should he be saying to him? Of course, dada would have no objection."

      "And would you then be letting him come here as he likes, and settling nothing, and just maning to marry you or not, as he likes, and you and he talked of over the counthry these four months back, and he talking about you, jist as his misthress, through the counthry?"

      Feemy was now regularly roused.

      "That's a lie for you, Thady! and a black lie—about your own sister too, to say he ever spoke a bad word against me! Pat Brady was telling you that perhaps. It's what he never did, or would do; for he's as true as you are false; and it's from jealousy, and just from your hate, because everybody else likes him, makes you say it. And now we are on it, Thady, I'll just tell you one thing: I'm not to do what you tell me, nor will I, for I'm much more able to manage myself than you are for me. And for all you say about him, I'd attend more to one word from Myles, than to all you say, if you stood talking till night; and talk you may, but I'll not stand and hear you!" And she bounced out of the room, slamming the door in a manner which made Mr. Flannelly's building shake to the foundation.

      Poor Thady was signally defeated. There he stood with his back to the fire, his old and dirty hat pulled low over his brow, his hands stuck into the pockets of his much worn shooting coat, his strong brogues and the bottoms of his corduroy trowsers covered with dirt and dry mould, with the same heavy discontented look about his face which he always now wore. He certainly appeared but