“From Hycy, and no other.”
“I'll hould a wager,” she replied, “that that's the very letther I seen him openin' through the key hole doar this mornin'. Do you know who it's to?” she inquired.
“Oh, the sorra know; he said it was a love-letther, and that he did not wish to be seen puttin' it in himself.”
“Wait,” said she, “give it to me here for a minute; here's Father M'Gowan comin' up, and I'll ax him who it's directed to.”
She accordingly took the letter out of his hand, and approaching the priest, asked him the name of the person to whom it was addressed.
“Plaise your reverence,” she said, “what name's on the back of this?—I mane,” said she, “who is goin' to?”
The priest looked at it, and at once replied, “It is goin' to Bryan M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, the traitor, and it comes from Major Vanston, the enemy to his liberty and religion, that his infamous vote put into Parliament, to rivet our chains, and continue our degradation. So there, girl, you have now the bigot from whom it comes, and the apostate to whom it goes. Who gave it to you?”
Nanny, who from some motives of her own, felt reluctant to mention Hycy's name in the matter, hastily replied, “A person, plaise your reverence, from Major Vanston.”
“Very well, girl, discharge your duty,” said the priest; “but I tell you the devil will never sleep well till he has his clutches in the same Major, as well as in the shameless apostate he has corrupted.”
Having uttered these words, he passed on, and Nanny in a minute or two afterwards returned the letter to her father, who with his own hands put it into the post-office.