“Call it just and righteous,” said John, calmly.

“Yes,” followed the other two, “it is both.”

“In his cowardly crime he has evaded the responsibility of law,” continued John, “and we care not if his punishment goes beyond law itself.  We will answer for it with our lives—­but in the mean time, he must die.”

“You see, Father Roche,” observed M’Loughlin, “to what a hardened state the strong temptations of the devil has brought them.”

“It is not that,” said John; “it is affection for our injured sister, whom he has doubly murdered—­it is also hatred of himself, and of the oppression we are receiving in so many shapes at his hands.  He must die.”

“Yes,” repeated the two brothers, “he must die, it is now too late.”

“Ha!” said the priest, “I understand you; there is an oath here.”

The three brothers smiled, but spoke not.

“Are ye my sons?” said the father, in tears, “and will you, who were ever obedient and dutiful, disregard me now?”

“In this one thing we must,” said John “we know you not now as our father.  Am I right?” said he, addressing his brothers.

“You are right,” they replied, “in this thing he is not our father.”

“Great God!” said the priest, trembling with absolute dread at a scene so different from any he had ever witnessed, “Merciful Father, hear our prayers, and drive the evil spirits of vengeance and blood out of the hearts of these wicked men!”

“Amen!” said their father, “and rescue them from the strong temptations of the devil which are in them and upon them.  Why do you not even pray to God—­”

“—­For strength to do it—­we did, and we do,” said John, interrupting him.

Father Roche looked at them, and there they stood, pale, silent, and with a smile upon their lips which filled him with a description of awe and fear that was new to him.  Their father was little better; the perspiration stood on his brow, and as he looked at them, he at times began to doubt their very identity, and to believe that the whole interview might be a phantasma, or a hideous dream.

“You have sworn an oath,” said the priest.  “Rash and sinful men, you dared blasphemously to take, as it were, the Almighty into a league of blood!  Do you not know that the creature you are about to slay is the work of your Creator, even as you are yourselves, and what power have you over his life?  I see, I see,” he added, “you have taken a sacrilegious oath of blood!”

“We have taken an oath of blood,” said they, “and we will keep it.”

“But is this just to your sister?” said the priest; “do you believe in the justice of an Almighty Providence?  Is there no probability that, if this man lives, circumstances may come to light by which her fair and spotless character may be vindicated to the world?  On the contrary, should you now take his life, you prevent any such possibility from ever happening; and your own rashness and ungodly crime, will be the means of sending her name down to posterity, foul and spotted with the imputation of woman’s worst guilt.  Is that love for your sister?”