"I have got something to tell you," began Bridget.
"Oh, you have, have you? You can throw light on this scandal then? Speak out, speak out this minute."
"Will you come with me into your study? I'd rather tell you alone."
"I'll do nothing of the kind. You speak out here. It's a nice state of things when the master of the house is kept in the dark! That girl should have been searched for last night when she didn't come in. And of course she would have been searched for if I had been told of it; but the rest of you must hugger-mugger together and keep me in the dark. I call this state of things disgraceful. Now what is it you have got to say, Bridget? Are you a coward too, afraid to tell your own father? A nice state of things the world is coming to! Speak! are you afraid of me?"
"I am a coward, and I am afraid of you," said Bridget.
Her words were so absolutely unexpected that every single individual seated round the breakfast table started back with an astonished exclamation.
Bridget's own face was white as death. She stepped a little away from the table; Bruin got up and stood by her side. She was unconscious of the fact that her hand rested on his great head.
"Speak up," thundered the squire, "I'll have no more shuffling. You look as if you were ashamed of something. I see it in your eye. You are my only child—the last of the race, and you are ashamed! Good God, that I should live to see this day. But come, no more shuffling—out with the truth!"
"I know something about Janet, and so also do Pat and Gerry," continued Bridget. "I'd rather tell you by yourself, father; I wish you'd let me."
"No, that I won't; if you have done anything wrong you have got to confess it. A pretty pass we have come to when Bridget O'Hara has to confess her sins! But, never mind, though you were twenty times my child, you'll have to stand here and tell the truth before everyone. Now speak up, speak up this minute—Kathleen! if you don't stop blubbering you'll have to leave the room."