The O’Mahony gazed for a puzzled minute into his young companion’s face.
“Yes—I hear you,” he said, hesitatingly.
“You—are The—O’Mahony—of—Muirisc!” repeated Bernard, with a deliberation and emphasis; “and I’ll whip any man out of his boots who says you’re not, or so much as looks as if he doubted it!”
The old soldier had put his hands in his pockets and began walking slowly up and down the chamber. After a time he looked up.
“I s’pose you can prove all this that you’ve been saying?” he asked, in a musing way.
“No—prove nothing! Don’t want to prove anything!” rejoined Bernard, stoutly.
Another pause. The elder man halted once more in his meditative pacing to and fro.
“And you say I am The—The O’Mahony of Muirisc?” he remarked.
“Yes, I said it; I mean it!”
“Well, but—”