She looked at him for a moment, then at her parents; and her cheek still got paler, and after a slight pause she burst into a vehement and irrepressible paroxysm of grief.
“John, is this true?” inquired his father.
“Vic va hoiah! John—blessed mother!—thrue?—but is it, John? is it?”
“Indeed, it is, mother—the villain, now, that he has no hope of his life, confessed it this day!”
“God knows, darlin',” exclaimed the Bodagh's warm—hearted wife, now melting into tears herself, “it's no wondher you should cry tears of joy for this. God wouldn't be above us, a cushla oge machree, or he'd sind brighter days before your young and innocent heart.”
Una could not speak, but wept on; the grief she felt, however, became gradually milder in its character, until at length her violent sobbings were hushed; and, although the tears still flowed, they flowed in silence.
“We will have him back, sartinly,” said the Bodagh; “don't cry, dear, we'll have him here again with no disateful villain to swear away his life.”
“I could die now,” said the noble—minded girl; “I think I could die now, without even seeing him. His name is cleared, and will be cleared; his character untainted; and that is dearer to me even than his love. Oh, I knew it! I knew it!” she fervently exclaimed; “and when all the world was against him, I was for him; I and his own mother—for we were the two that knew his heart best.”
“Well,” said John, smiling, “if I brought you gloomy news once, I believe I have brought you pleasant news twice. You remember when I told you he was not to die.”
“Indeed, John, dear, you are the best brother that ever God blessed a sister with; but I hope this is not a dream. Oh, can it be possible! and when I awake in the morning, will it be to the sorrowful heart I had yesterday? I am bewildered. After this, who should ever despair of the goodness of God, or think that the trial he sends but for a time is to last always?”