"
"Well, Mr. Harry," replied Barney, dryly, or rather with some severity,
"you see what the upshot is; treachery, they say, seldom prospers in
the long run, although it may for a while. God forgive them that makes a
practice of it. As for Master Charles, I couldn't have dreamt of such a
thing."
"Nor I, Barney. I know not what to say. It perplexes me, from whatever
point I look at it. At all events, I hope he may recover, and if he
does, I trust he will consider what has happened as a warning, and act
upon better principles. May God forgive him!"
And so ended their dialogue, little, indeed, to the satisfaction
of Harry, whom Barney left in complete ignorance of the significant
exclamations by which Grace Davoren, in the alarm of the moment, had
betrayed her own guilt, by stating that Shawn-na-Middogue had stabbed
the wrong man.
Sarah Sullivan--poor, thoughtless, but affectionate girl--on repairing
with the thin toast to her mistress's bedroom, felt so brimful of the
disaster which had befallen Charles, that---now believing in his guilt,
as she did, and with a hope of effectually alienating Alice's affections
from him--she lost not a moment in communicating the melancholy
intelligence to her.
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