“'Say no more, Mick,' said Vengeance, taking his hand again; 'I know that, leave the rest to me; but how do you find yourself, my poor fellow? You look weaker than you did, a good deal.'
“'Indeed I'm going very fast, sir,' replied Mick; 'I know it'll soon be over with me.'
“'Hut, no, man,' said Vengeance, drawing his hand rapidly across his eyes, and clearing his voice, 'not at all—don't say so; would a little broth serve you? or a bit of fresh meat?—or would you have a fancy for anything that I could make out for you? I'll get you wine, if you think it would do you good.”
“'God reward you,' said Mick feebly—'God reward you, and open your eyes to the truth. Is my mother likely to come in, do you think?'
“'She must be here in a few minutes,' the other replied; 'she was waiting till they'd churn, that she might bring you down a little fresh milk and butter.'
“'I wish she was wid me,' said the poor lad, 'for I'm lonely wantin' her—her voice and the very touch of her hands goes to my heart. Mother, come home, and let me lay my head upon your breast, agra machree, for I think it will be for the last time: we lived lonely, avourneen, wid none but ourselves—sometimes in happiness, when the nabors 'ud be kind to us—and sometimes in sorrow, when there 'ud be none to help us. It's over now, mother, and I'm lavin' you for ever!'
“Vengeance wiped his eyes—'Rouse yourself, Mick,' said he, 'rouse yourself.'
“'Who is that sitting along with you on the stool?' said Mick.
“'No one,' replied his neighbor; 'but what's the matter with you, Mick?—your face is changed.'
“Mick, however, made no reply; but after a few slight struggles, in which he attempted to call upon his mother's name, he breathed his last. When Vengeance saw that he was dead—looked upon the cold, miserable hut in which this grateful and affectionate young man was stretched—and then reflected on the important service he had just rendered he could not suppress his tears.