“God bless you, John!  God bless you!” she replied; “that is far better; you have been a good brother to your poor Una—­to your poor unhappy Una!”

She leaned her head on a table, and wept for some time at the trying fate, as she termed it, which hung over two beings so young and so guiltless of any crime.  The brother soothed her by every argument in his power, and, after gently compelling her to dry her tears, expressed his intention of going early the next day to ascertain whether or not any professional man had been engaged to conduct the defence of her unfortunate lover.

In effecting this object there was little time lost on the part of young O’Brien.  Knowing that two respectable attorneys lived in the next market town, he deemed it best to ascertain whether Fardorougha had applied to either of them for the purposes aforementioned, or, if not, to assure himself whether the old man had gone to any of those pettifoggers, who, rather than appear without practice, will undertake a cause almost on any terms, and afterwards institute a lawsuit for the recovery of a much larger bill of costs than a man of character and experience would demand.

In pursuance of the plan concerted between them, the next morning found him rapping, about eleven o’clock, at the door of an attorney named Kennedy, whom he asked to see on professional business.  A clerk, on hearing his voice in the hall, came out and requestedm him to step into a back room, adding that his master, who was engaged, would see him the moment he had despatched the person then with him.  Thus shown, he was separated from O’Halloran’s office only by a pair of folding doors, through which every word uttered in the office could be distinctly heard; a circumstance that enabled O’Brien unintentionally to overhear the following dialogue between the parties: 

“Well, my good friend,” said Kennedy to the stranger, who, it appeared, had arrived before O’Brien only a few minutes, “I am now disengaged; pray, let me know your business.”

The stranger paused a moment, as if seeking the most appropriate terms in which to express himself.

“It’s a black business,” he replied, “and the worst of it is I’m a poor man.”

“You should not go to law, then,” observed the attorney.  “I tell you beforehand you will find it is devilish expensive.”

“I know it,” said the man; “it’s open robbery; I know what it cost me to recover the little pences that wor sometimes due to me, when I broke myself lending weeny trifles to strugglin’ people that I thought honest, and robbed me aftherwards.”

“In what way can my services be of use to you at present? for that I suppose is the object of your calling upon me,” said Kennedy.

“Oh thin, sir, if you have the grace of God, or kindness, or pity in your heart, you can sarve me, you can save my heart from breakin’!”

“How—­how, man?—­come to the point.”