He stood gazing at her in silent surprise.
"Papa," cried Moira passionately, answering his look, "do you think what he is saying?
I know my brother Allan clean through to the heart.

He is wild at times, and might rage perhaps and--and--break things, but he will not lie nor cheat.

He will die first, and that I warrant you." Still her father stood gazing upon her as she stood proudly erect, her pale face alight with lofty faith in her brother and scorn of his traducer.

"My child, my child," he said, huskily, "how like you are to your mother! Thank God! Indeed it may be you're right! God grant it!" He drew her closely to him.
"Papa, Papa," she whispered, clinging to him, while her voice broke in a sob, "you know Allan will not lie.

You know it, don't you, Papa ?" "I hope not, dear child, I hope not," he replied, still holding her to him.
"Papa," she cried wildly, "say you believe me." "Yes, yes, I do believe you.