"Ellen, my darlint," he answered, "I knew you'd be glad to get me back,"
and he kissed! again and again her burning lips; "but what do you mane,
acushla?--What reports! do you spake ov, an' ov what am I accused?"

"Oh, thin, Owen, I'm glad you didn't even hear ov id; an' the poliss
here searchin' the house to make you pres'ner. Shure, avick, Bill Daly,
the procthor, that sazed poor Black Bess, was murdhered the very mornin'
you wint to shoot the hares; an' on account ov yer borryin' the gun, an'
threatenin' him the day ov the sale, they said it was you that done id;
but I gev thim all the lie, fur I knew you wor innocent. Now, Owen,
ahagur, you look tired, sit down, an' I'll get you somethin' to ate.
Och, bud I'm 'glad that yer returned safe!"

The overjoyed wife soon heaped fresh turf on the fire, and partly
blowing, partly fanning it into a flame, hung a large iron pot I over
it, from a hook firmly fixed in the wall. While these preparations were
going forward, Owen laid aside his rough outside coat, and going to the
door, looked out, as if in irresolution.

"Ellen," at length said he, turning suddenly round, "I'm thinkin' that
I'd betther go to the poliss barrack an' surrindher--or rather, see what
they have to say agin me; as I'm an innocent man, I've no dhread; an' if
I wait till they come an' take me, it'll look as iv I was afeard."

"Thrue for you, agra," she answered; "bud it's time enough yit a bit--no
one knows ov yer bein' here. You look slaved, an' had betther rest
yerself, an' ate a pratee or two. I have no milk ov my own to offer you
now, but I'll go an' thry an' get a dhrop from a neighbor."

When Ellen returned with a little wooden noggin full, her husband was