At any rate the priest’s admonitions had this effect on Thady, that when he came in to breakfast after his morning avocations¹, he spoke² to Feemy, whom he had not seen since their stormy interview of yesterday, with kindness, and, for him, gentleness. But she seemed only half inclined to accept the proffered³ olive branch. Thady’s morning salutations couldn’t go far towards putting a young girl in good humour, for even now that he meant to be gracious it was only —“Well, Feemy, how’s yourself this morning; and will you be ready for Mary Brady’s wedding?” But her answer —“Oh, in course; will you take your breakfast there?” showed him that she had not forgiven his aspersions against her lover, and the breakfast passed over in silence, with the exception of Larry’s usual growls⁴. Thady, therefore, when he had swallowed his potatoes and milk, betook himself again to Pat Brady and the fields. Larry was left alone to sleep, if he could, over the fire, and Feemy betook herself to her own parlour, and proceeded to penetrate⁵ farther into the mysteries of the “Mysterious Assassin.”

There she sat — a striking contradiction of that proverb which we so often quote with reference to young ladies, and which so seldom can be quoted with truth, “Beauty unadorned, adorned⁶ the most.”

Ussher would not come till the evening, and her hair was therefore in papers — and the very papers themselves looked soiled and often used. Her back hair had been hastily fastened up with a bit of old black ribbon and a comb boasting only two teeth, and the short hairs round the bottom of her well-turned head were jagged and uneven⁷, as though bristling⁸ with anger at the want of that attention which they required. She had no collar on, but a tippet of different material and colour from her frock was thrown over her shoulders. Her dress itself was the very picture of untidiness; it looked as though it had never seen a

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