Father," she added, laying her wasted hand in his; "it is my intention to go over to them--an' as I have nothing that I can do at home, to spend the greater part of the day with them in takin' care of them--an'-- an' in doin' what I can for them, Yes, father dear--it is my intention--for there is none but me to do it for them." "Saviour of earth, Mave dear, is it mad you are?
You, _achora machree_, that's! dearer to us all than the apple of our eye, or the very pulse of our hearts--to let you into a plague-house--to let you near the deadly faver that's upon them--where you'd be sure to catch it; an' then--oh, blessed Father.

Mave what's come over you, to think of sich a thing ?--ay, or to think that we'd let you expose yourself?
But it's all the goodness and kindness of your affectionate heart; put it out of your head, however--don't name it, or let us hear of it again." "But, father, it's a duty that our religion teaches us." "Why--what's come over you, Mave ?--all at wanst too--you that was so much afeard of it that you wouldn't go on a windy side of a feverish house, nor walk near any one that was even recoverin' from it.

Why, what's come over you ?" "Simply, father, the thought if I don't go to them and help them, they will die.

I was afeard of the fever, and I am afeard of it--but am I to let my own foolish fears prevent me from doin' the part of a Christian to them?
Let us put ourselves in their place--an' who knows--although may God forbid!--but it may be our own before the season passes--suppose it was our own case--an' that all the world was afeard to come near us; oh, what would we think of any one, man or woman, that trustin' in God, would set their own fears at defiance, an' come to our relief." "Mave, I couldn't think of it; if anything happened you, an' that we lost you, I never would lay my head down without the bitther thought that I had a hand in your death." At this moment, the mother who had been in another room, came in to the kitchen--and having listened for a minute to the subject of their conversation, she immediately joined her husband; but still with feelings of deep and almost tearful sympathy for the Daltons.
"It's like her, poor affectionate girl," she exclaimed, looking tenderly at her daughter; "but it's a thing, Mave, we could never think of; so put it out of your head." She approached her mother, and, seizing her hands, exclaimed:-- "Oh, mother, for the sake of the livin' God, make it your own case!--think of it--bring it home to you--look into the frightful state they're in.

Are they to die in a Christian country for want of some kind person to attend upon them?
Is it not our duty, when we know how they are sufferin'?
I cannot rest, or be at ease; an' I am not afeard of fever here.