"I fear your firmness, O'Reardon, and I dread that your want of English know. ledge and English laws may get you into trouble; but," she added, smiling, you have a talisman within your bosom, and if, in twelve months, you still think of Moyna, why "God bless you! I forgive you all you have said, just for that one morsel of hope; God bless you, Miss Dalrymple, and don't fear for me!" interrupted Harry; and he left the room, eager to conceal his mingled feelings from the lady's observation. Time passed on; nothing could exceed Mrs. O'Reardon's hatred of England and the English -how could she tolerate a country where potatoes were sold by the pound, and there was no respect paid to "good ould families!" She was a complete bar to Harry's improvement; his room was no longer neat, as his English landlady had kept it: it was, to use an expressive Irish phrase, always "Ree-raw," and Mrs. O'Reardon herself was a source of perpetual amusement to those of her neighbourhood with whom she disdained to associate. Harry was proud and distant also, but his pride was dignified-hers, petulant and garrulous; she delighted in mortifying the English, and they were not slow at returning the compliment, so that Harry's home sojourn was anything but comfortable. His habitual veneration for his mother could not always restrain his temper, and, though his salary had been increased, it was insufficient, from bad management, to the supply of his wants, while married men supported their families respectably on considerably less; this he told his mother, whose invariable reply was, "That she could not let herself down to the low turns of the mane-spirited English, who sould potatoes by the pound, burnt the ends of their candles on bits o' tin, and never had a bit or a sup to give a friend when he came in unawares." This " This "coming in unawares" was a great evil: "the boys and girls from their ould place" were sure of the bit and the sup, and so were their cousins, and their cousins' friends, to whom Mrs. O'Reardon could abuse the English to her heart's content -mingling her orations with an account of her son's property, (which, of course, she exaggerated-wages she disdained to name,) and a display of "tea-chaney," gaudy with all the colours of the rainbow, so that they might give a grand account of their prosperity to their neighbours in Ireland; and she also hinted as to the time not being far distant when they would buy back their estate, and make it flou rish! These meetings threw her into a state of feverish excitement which she called happiness, but which left her more fractious than ever. After one of such scenes, her son returned, and found her with her elbows on the table, the palms of her hand pressed against her cheeks, and tears streaming through her fingers. "Your mother will be the first of the O'Reardons who ever turned natural," she said, in an apologising tone; "but I could not help it, Harry." Help what, mother ?" Their window overlooked a small square, and Mrs. O'Reardon pointed to a group of children who had brought a quantity of hawthorn boughs covered with its fragrant blossoms into the court-they were poor town-bred things, delighted with their treasure, and were building a sort of bower against the dingy walls. "The smell and the light of the flowers came over me," said the old woman, "like a dream, and I thought of our lost home, and green island, and my heart softened! But shut the window, I'll look on it no more." There are times and seasons with us all, when nature will have her way. Harry was in a dangerous situation, and Moyna's warning had its motive. At that time glass, whiskey, and various other things imported from Ireland were liable to a duty, and the temptation to smuggling was not always to be resisted. "Mrs. O'Reardon, ma'am," one of the old dame's cater-cousins, had said, "there's a brother o' my sister's husband's coming over in the packet, and, maybe he'd have, poor boy, two or three gallons of whiskey, (and sure there's a bottle o' the best for yerself, ma'am,) and a trifle o' glass. As Mister Harry's in the office, sure he'll just not see it, and then he'll not have to confess a lie the next time he goes to the priest's knee." "My son is very particular," replied his mother gravely, "you know it's not his own, ma'am." "O Mrs. O'Reardon! to obleege a neighbour, ma'am, and after my sending word home of the fine place he had, and all the packet-captains under his thumb, ma'am! What will the neighbours think if they find my sister's husband's brother stopped for a thrifle of whiskey, and two or three bits o' glass, and he in it, think o' that!" Why, there's no harm in life in such a thing!" said Mrs. O'Reardon, her towering pride roused at the idea of what the neighbours 66 would say. "But to be broke, ma'am," chimed in her companion," nothing else, sure enough, true for you; and in troth! if Mister Harry refused me such a trifle, I'd think it very hard of him, so I would, and quite unnatural, after his winking at Barney O'Brien's keg, which passed ashore in a bag of wool." "And pray, ma'am, who informed you of that!" inquired Mrs. O'Reardon. "I'm not going to turn informer, and tell you my informer, ma'am," replied the cunning crone, "I'm above such maneness, and I wonder at you, so I do, to even the likes of it to me. No blame to him to do a turn for the blood of the O'Briens, and my blessing on him for it; but blood's stronger nor water, and sure I'm a cousin by his father's side, any way, and no mistake; and though I'm not as grand, may be I'm as good as any O'Brien. Sure it's the talk of the men all over Liverpool, the confidence the gentlemen belonging to the packets have in Mister Harry, and never think of overlooking him in any way." "The very reason," replied Mrs. O'Reardon, "why they should not be deceived." T |