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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 530 pages of information about The Kellys and the O'Kellys.

Martin then agreed to go to Daly.  He was on good terms with them all now, since making the last offer to them respecting the property; besides, as Martin said, “he knew no other lawyer, and, as the will was so decidedly in Barry’s favour, who was so proper to make it as Barry’s own lawyer?”

“Good-bye now, Martin,” said Anty; “we shall be desperately scolded for talking so long; but it was on my mind to say it all, and I’m betther now it’s all over.”

“Good night, dear Anty,” said Martin, “I’ll be seeing you to-morrow.”

“Every day, I hope, Martin, till it’s all over.  God bless you, God bless you all—­and you above all.  You don’t know, Martin—­at laist you didn’t know all along, how well, how thruly I’ve loved you.  Good night,” and Martin left the room, as Barry had done, in tears.  But he had no feeling within him of which he had cause to be ashamed.  He was ashamed, and tried to hide his face, for he was not accustomed to be seen with the tears running down his cheeks; but still he had within him a strong sensation of gratified pride, as he reflected that he was the object of the warmest affection to so sweet a creature as Anty Lynch.

“Well, Martin—­what was it she wanted?” said his mother, as she met him at the bottom of the stairs.

“I couldn’t tell you now, mother,” said he; “but av there was iver an angel on ’arth, it’s Anty Lynch.”  And saying so, he pushed open the door and escaped into the street.

“I wondher what she’s been about now?” said the widow, speculating to herself—­“well, av she does lave it away from Barry, who can say but what she has a right to do as she likes with her own?—­and who’s done the most for her, I’d like to know?”—­and pleasant prospects of her son’s enjoying an independence flitted before her mind’s eye.  “But thin,” she continued, talking to herself, “I wouldn’t have it said in Dunmore that a Kelly demaned hisself to rob a Lynch, not for twice all Sim Lynch ever had.  Well—­we’ll see; but no good ’ll ever come of meddling with them people.  Jane, Jane,” she called out, at the top of her voice, “are you niver coming down, and letting me out of this?—­bad manners to you.”

Jane answered, in the same voice, from the parlour upstairs, “Shure, mother, ain’t I getting Anty her tay?”

“Drat Anty and her tay!—­Well, shure, I’m railly bothered now wid them Lynches!—­Well, glory be to God, there’s an end to everything—­not that I’m wishing her anywhere but where she is; she’s welcome, for Mary Kelly.”

XXVI.  LOVE’S AMBASSADOR

Two days after the hunt in which poor Goneaway was killed by Barry’s horse, Ballindine received the following letter from his friend Dot Blake.

   Limmer’s Hotel, 27th March, 1844.

   Dear Frank,

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