I'm sorry you struck me, Condy, for I was only jokin' all the time.

I never had ill-will against you; an' in spite of what has happened, I haven't now." A feeling of generous regret, almost amounting to remorse, instantly touched Dalton's heart; he seized the hand of Donnel, and expressed his sorrow for the blow he had given him.
"My God," he exclaimed, "why did I strike you?
But sure no one could for a minute suppose that you weren't in earnest." "Well, well," said the other, "let it be a warnin' to both of us; to me, in the first place, never to carry a joke too far; and to you, never to allow your passion to get the betther of you, afaird that you might give a blow in anger that you'd have cause to repent of all the days of your life.

My eye and cheek is in a frightful state; but no matther, Condy, I forgive you, especially in the hope that you'll mark my advice." Dalton once more asked his pardon, and expressed his unqualified sorrow at what had occurred; after which he again shook hands with Dalton and departed.
Sullivan felt surprised at this rencontre, especially at the nature of its singular termination; he seemed, however, to fall into a meditative and gloomy mood, and observed when Dalton had gone-- "If I ever had any doubt, Donnel, that my poor brother owed his death to a Dalton, I haven't it now." "I don't blame you much for sayin' so," replied Donnel.

"I'm sorry myself for what has happened, and especially as you were present.

I'm afeard, indeed', that a man's life would be but little in that boy's hands under a fit of passion.