How hard was Kate’s task, to eke out means for a defence from such materials as this! Indeed, no indictment that ever was drawn could be more condemnatory than the man’s own admissions. Still, she persisted in sifting the whole story over and over, till she had at least such a knowledge of the details as would enable her to confer with a lawyer and obtain his opinion.
“And who is to defind me, darlin’?” asked he, in the cheerful tone of a heart perfectly at ease.
“We have not fixed upon that yet. We are not quite sure,” murmured she, as her racked brain beat and throbbed with intense thinking.
“I’d like to have Mr. O’Connell, Kate,” said he, proudly. “It would warm my ould heart to hear how he’d give it to them, the scoundrels! that would turn a poor man out of his own, and send him to sleep under a ditch. There’s not his like in all Ireland to lash a landlord. It’s there he’s at home!”
“I must be going now, grandady.”
“Going, acushla! And will you leave me?”
“I most, there’s no help for it; they wouldn’t let me stay here.”
“Begorra!” cried he, wildly,—“I forgot I was in gaol! May I never! if I didn’t think I was at home again, and that we were only waiting for the boys to have our supper!”
“My poor old grandady,” said she, stooping and kissing his forehead, “I’ll come back to-morrow, and stay a long time with you. I have a great deal to say to you that I can’t think of to-day. Here’s a little basket, with something to eat, and some tobacco, too; the gaoler gave me leave to bring it in. And you’ll drink my health to-night, grandady, won’t you?”
“My darlin’—my own darlin’, that I will! And where did you come from now—was it from England?”