It was too much for Nelly to answer: she re-echoed the sigh, and more closely embraced the candlestick.
“Besides, Nelly, who’ll have the money when she’s gone?—and she’s nigh that already, the Blessed Virgin guide and prothect her. Who’ll get all her money?”
“Why; won’t Mr Martin? Sure, an’t they as good as man and wife—all as one?”
“That’s it; they’ll be fighting and tearing, and tatthering about that money, the two young men will, you’ll see. There’ll be lawyering, an’ magisthrate’s work—an’ factions—an’ fighthins at fairs; an’ thin, as in course the Lynches can’t hould their own agin the Kellys, there’ll be undherhand blows, an’ blood, an’ murdher!—you’ll see else.”
“Glory be to God,” involuntarily prayed Nelly, at the thoughts suggested by Sally’s powerful eloquence.
“There will, I tell ye,” continued Sally, again draining the tea-pot into the bowl. “Sorrow a lie I’m telling you;” and then, in a low whisper across the fire, “didn’t I see jist now Miss Anty ketch a hould of Misther Martin, as though she’d niver let him go agin, and bid him for dear mercy’s sake have a care of Barry Lynch?—Shure I knowed what that meant. And thin, didn’t he thry and do for herself with his own hands? Didn’t Biddy say she’d swear she heard him say he’d do it?—and av he wouldn’t boggle about his own sisther, it’s little he’d mind what he’d do to an out an out inemy like Misther Martin.”
“Warn’t that a knock at the hall-door, Sally?”
“Run and see, girl; may-be it’s the docthor back again; only mostly he don’t mind knocking much.”
Nelly went to the door, and opened it to Lord Ballindine, who had left his gig in charge of his servant. He asked for Martin, who in a short time, joined him in the parlour.
“This is a dangerous place for your lordship, now,” said he: “the fever is so bad in the house. Thank God, nobody seems to have taken it yet, but there’s no knowing.”