"And who bought your spoil?"
"Oh, a spalpeen in William Street, a rale chate! he never gave me more ner two shillings a brace. Don't you have no dalings with him," said the culprit with heroic impudence.
"And now, what am I to do with you, Mr. Chute? You are convicted here as a thief and poacher, on your own confession."
"Well, now, since you ax me, I think ye might as well let me off, Mr. Gilbert! Sure, it won't be no pleasure, or relief, to you to prosecute me, and me old mother would think bad of me going to jail. Won't you spake a word for me, Miss Helen? Sure, there's no one but yourself can say a hate against me, and ye would not like to be put up in the witness box at Terryscreen."
"You need not be distressed about Miss Denis, Darby," said Gilbert sternly. "I could prove enough without her. If I do let you off, it will be on account of your old mother, and because I've known you ever since I could walk, and because the harm is done now, and to publish your knavery, would make half the county look like fools."
"Look here, Mr. Gilbert, I'll never offer to fire a shot in anyone's ground again, nor to set foot in Crowmore. And I'll make restitution on the cow, an' wan or two small matters beside, in all twinty pounds. There now! I'm laying me sins bare before you—and what more can I do?"
"You can leave the country! You must clear out within twenty-four hours, and never show your face again in these parts, either as John Dillon or Darby Chute. And, as to the restitution, I shall have a word with Father Fagan, he will see to that."
"Very well, Mr. Gilbert," he rejoined quietly, "as you plase. But I warn you that there will be nations of poachers in it, when I go."
"Nations or not, go you must. I wonder what my uncle would say if he knew I let you off so cheap."
"'Deed then, Mr. Gilbert, I'm thinking he would just destroy both you and me! Howd-somever, I've a brother in America, and I've long laid out to go there. So it's not putting me much about!"