'You--you!' said he, in a towering passion; 'hang you for a meddling brat: your hand is in everybody's pie.

What business had you to come brawling and quarrelling here, with a gentleman who has fifteen hundred a year ?' 'Oh,' gasped Nora, from the stone bench, 'I shall die: I know I shall.

I shall never leave this spot.' 'The Captain's not gone yet,' whispered Fagan; on which Nora, giving him an indignant look, jumped up and walked towards the house.
'Meanwhile,' Mick continued, 'what business have you, you meddling rascal, to interfere with a daughter of this house ?' 'Rascal yourself!' roared I: 'call me another such name, Mick Brady, and I'll drive my hanger into your weasand.

Recollect, I stood to you when I was eleven years old.

I'm your match now, and, by Jove, provoke me, and I'll beat you like--like your younger brother always did.' That was a home-cut, and I saw Mick turn blue with fury.
'This is a pretty way to recommend yourself to the family,' said Fagan, in a soothing tone.
'The girl's old enough to be his mother,' growled Mick.
'Old or not,' I replied: 'you listen to this, Mick Brady' (and I swore a tremendous oath, that need not be put down here): 'the man that marries Nora Brady must first kill me--do you mind that ?' 'Pooh, sir,' said Mick, turning away, 'kill you--flog you, you mean! I'll send for Nick the huntsman to do it;' and so he went off.
Captain Fagan now came up, and taking me kindly by the hand, said I was a gallant lad, and he liked my spirit.