"She's gone!" she cried wildly. "The colleen's gone, an' me niver shtirrin' from her side! Och, wirra, wirra! what'll I do? It must be the witches has taken her clane up chimley."
Dr. O'Shaughnessy stood for a moment transfixed, glaring with speechless rage at the unhappy woman; then rushing suddenly at her, he seized and shook her till her teeth chattered together.
"Ye've been ashlape!" he yelled, beside himself with rage and disappointment. "Ye've fell ashlape, an' laved her shlip out! Sorrow seize ye, ye're always the black bean in me porridge!" Then flinging her from him, he cried, "I don't care! I'll be it! I'll be king wid what's in there now!" and dashed into the house.
He paused before the door of the best room, lately poor Eily's prison, to draw breath and to collect his thoughts. The door was closed, and from within—hark! what was that sound? Something was stirring, surely. Oh, joy! was his wife mistaken? Waking suddenly from her nap, had she failed to see the girl, who had perhaps been sleeping, too? At all events the jewels were there, in shining heaps on the floor, as he had last seen them, with thousands more covering the floor in every direction,—a king's ransom in half a handful of them. He would be king yet, even if the girl were gone. Cautiously he opened the door and looked in, his eyes glistening, his mouth fairly watering at the thought of all the splendor which would meet his glance.
What did Dr. O'Shaughnessy see? Oh, horror! Oh, dismay, terror, anguish! What did he see? Captive was there none, yet the room was not empty. Jewels were there none, yet the floor was covered; covered with living creatures,—toads, snakes, newts, all hideous and unclean reptiles that hop or creep or wriggle. And as the wretched man stared, with open mouth and glaring eye-balls, oh, horror! they were all hopping, creeping, wriggling towards the open door,—towards him! With a yell beside which his wife's had been a whisper, O'Shaughnessy turned and fled; but after him—through the door, down the passage and out of the house—came hopping, creeping, wriggling his myriad pursuers.
Fly, King Michael! stretch your long legs, and run like a hunted hare over hill and dale, over moss and moor. They are close behind you; they are catching at your heels; they come from every side, surrounding you! Fly, King O'Shaughnessy! but you cannot escape. The Green Men are hunting you, if you could but know it, in sport and in revenge; and three times they will chase you round County Kerry, for thrice three days, till at last they suffer you to drop exhausted in a bog, and vanish from your sight.
And Eily? Eily went home with her apron full of pearls and diamonds, to tell her story again, and this time to be believed. And she grew up a good woman and a rich woman; and she married the young Count of Kilmoggan, and spoke diamonds and pearls all her life long,—at least her husband said she did, and he ought to know.