“Indeed, father, I have; and it is much to her credit that she was candid enough to place such confidence in her brother.”
“Pledged and promised to one another. Bridget, who could believe this?”
“Believe it! I don't believe it—it's only a schame of the hussy to get him. Oh, thin, Queen of Heaven this day, but it's black news to us!”
“John,” said the father, “tell Una to come down to us.”
“Father, I doubt that's rather a trying task for her. I wish, you wouldn't insist.”
“Go off, sir; she must come down immediately, I'll have it from her own lips, too.”
Without another word of remonstrance the son went to bring her down. When the brother and sister entered the room, O'Brien still paced the floor. He stood, and, turning his eyes upon his daughter with severe displeasure, was about to speak, but he appeared to have lost the power of utterance; and, after one or two ineffectual attempts, the big tears fairly rolled down his cheeks.
“See, see,” said the mother, “see what you have brought us to. Is it thrue that you're promised to Fardorougha's son?”
Una tottered over to a chair, and the blood left her cheeks; her lips became dry, and she gasped for breath.
“Why, don't you think it worth your while to answer me?” continued the mother.