Part 14 (1/2)

”To be sure,” replied the other, ”an' the house where they did live when they wor as themselves, full, an' warm, an' daicent; an' it is a hard case on them, G.o.d knows, to be turned out like beggars from a farm that they spent hundreds on, and to be forced to see the landlord, ould d.i.c.k o' the Grange, now settin' it at a higher rent and putting into his own pocket the money they had laid out upon improvin' it an' makin' it valuable for him and his; troth, it's open robbery an' nothin' else.”

”It in a hard case upon them, as every body allows,” said Mave, ”but it's over now, and can't be helped. Good-bye, Nelly, an' G.o.d bless you; an' G.o.d bless you too,” she added, addressing the strange woman, whose hand she shook and pressed. ”You are a great deal oulder than I am, an' as I said, every one may read care an' sorrow upon your face. Mine doesn't show it yet, I know, but for all that the heart within me is full of both, an' no likelihood of its ever bein' otherwise with me.”

As she spoke, the tears again gushed down her cheeks; but she checked her grief by an effort, and after a second hurried good-bye, she proceeded on her way home.

”That seems a mild girl,” said the strange woman, ”as she is a lovely creature to look at.”

”She's better than she looks,” returned the prophet's wife, ”an' that's a great deal to say for her.”

”That's but truth,” replied the stranger, ”and I believe it; for indeed she has goodness in her face.”

”She has and in her heart,” replied Nelly; ”no wondher, indeed, that every one calls her the _Gra Gal_, for it's she that well deserves it. I You are bound for Condy Dalton's, then?” she added, inquiringly. ”I am,” said the other. ”I think you must be a stranger in the country, otherwise I'd know your face,” continued Nelly--”but maybe you're a relation of theirs.”

”I am a stranger,” said the other; ”but no relation.”

”The Daltons,” proceeded Nelly, ”are daicent people,--but hot and hasty, as the savin' is. It's the blow before the word wid them always.”

”Ah, tut they say,” returned her companion, ”that a hasty heart was never a bad one.”

”Many a piece o' nonsense they say as well as that,” rejoined Nelly; ”I know them that 'ud put a knife into your heart hastily enough--ay, an' give you a hasty death, into the bargain. They'll first break your head--cut you to the skull, and then, indeed, they'll give you a plaisther. That was ever an' always the carrecther of the same Daltons; an', if all accounts be thrue, the hand of G.o.d is upon them, an' will be upon them till the b.l.o.o.d.y deed is brought to light.”

”How is that?” inquired the other, with intense interest, whilst her eyes became riveted upon Nelly's hard features.

”Why, a murdher that was committed betther than twenty years ago in this neighborhood.”

”A murdher!” exclaimed the stranger. ”Where?--when?--how?”

”I can tell you where, an' I can tell you when,” replied Nelly; ”but there I must stop--for unless I was at the committin' of it, you might know very well I couldn't tell you how.”

”Where then?” she asked, and whilst she did so, it was by a considerable effort that she struggled to prevent her agitation from being noticed by the prophet's wife.

”Why, near the Grey Stone at the crossroads of Mallybenagh--that's the where!”

”An' now for the when?” asked the stranger, who almost panted with anxiety as she spoke.

”Let me see,” replied Nelly, ”fourteen and six makes twenty, an' two before that or nearly--I mane the year of the rebellion, Why it's not all out two-and-twenty years, I think.”

”Aisey,” said the other, ”I'm but very weak an' feeble--will you jist wait till I rest a minute upon this green bank by the road.”

”What ails you?” asked Nelly. ”You look as if you got suddenly ill.”

”I did get a little--but it'll soon pa.s.s away,” she answered--”thrue enough,” she added in a low voice, and as if in a soliloquy; ”G.o.d is a just Judge--he is--he is! Well, but--oh, I'll soon get better--well, but listen, what became of the murdhered man?--was the body ever got?”

”n.o.body knows that--the body was never got--that is to say n.o.body knows where it's now lyin', snug enough too.”

”Ha!” thought the stranger, eying her furtively--”snug enough!--there's more knowledge where that came from. What do you mane by snug enough?”

she asked abruptly.