I tell you, then, Sarah M'Gowan, that you've done me injustice.

If there appeared to be a falsehood in my words, there was none in my heart." "That's truth; I know, I feel that that's truth," replied Sarah, quickly; "but oh, how wrong I am," she exclaimed, "to mention that or anything else here that might distract him! Ah," she proceeded, addressing Mave, "I did you injustice--I feel I did, but don't be angry with me, for I acknowledge it." "Why should I be angry with you ?" replied Mave, "you only spoke what you thought, an' this, by all accounts, is what you always do." "Let us talk as little as possible here," replied Sarah, the sole absorbing object of whose existence lay in Dalton's recovery.

"I will speak to you on your way home, but not here--not here;" and while uttering the last words she pointed to Dalton, to intimate that further conversation might disturb him.
"Dear Mave," observed Mary, now rising from her chair, "you are stayin' too long; oh, for God's sake, don't stop; you can't dhrame of the danger you're in." "But," replied Mave, calmly, "you know, Mary, that I came to stop and to do whatever I can do till the family comes round.

You are too feeble to undertake anything, and might only get into a relapse if you attempted it." "But, then we have Sarah M'Gowan," she replied, "who came, as few would--none livin' this day, I think, barrin' yourself and her--to stay with us, and to do anything that she can do for us all.

May God for ever bless her! for short as the time is, I think she has saved some of our lives--Condy's without a doubt." Mave turned towards Sarah, and, as she looked upon her, the tears started to her eyes.
"Sarah M'Gowan," said she, "you are fond of truth, an' you are right; I can't find words to thank you for doin' what you did, God bless and reward you!" She extended her hand as she spoke, but Sarah put it back.