“What did he say to ye when he kem?” said she, in a scoffing tone.
“He never spoke a word, but he pressed back the cloth that was on his head, and I saw the deep cut in it, down to the very face!”
“Well, I am sure it had time to heal before this time,” said the woman, with a tone of mockery that at last became palpable to the dying man.
“Where's Dan, Molly,—did he never come back since?”
“Sorra bit; he said he'd go out of the house, and never come back to it. You frightened the boy with the terrible things you say in your ravings.”
“Oh, murther—murther! My own flesh and blood desart me!”
“Then why won't you be raisonable,—why won't you hould your peace about what happened long agone?”
“Because I can't,” said he, with a peevish eagerness. “Because I'm going where it's all known a'ready.”
“Faix, and I would n't be remindin' them, anyway!” said the hag, whose sarcastic impiety added fresh tortures to the dying sinner.
“I wanted to tell Father Ned all; I wanted to have masses for him that's gone,—the man that suffered instead of me! Oh, dear!—Oh, dear!—and nobody will come to me.”