“Ah, Terry, alanna,” said the old man sorrowfully, “I will never get up again until I do upon the bearer.[7] My days are spent, and I know it, for there is something over me that I cannot describe, and I won’t be alive in twenty-four hours;” and as he said these words, he heaved a deep groan, whilst Terry, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his coat, wept bitterly.
“Will I go for the priest?” demanded Terry, sobbing as if his heart would break.
“No,” replied the old man sorrowfully, “I do not want him. It is long since I complied with my religious duties, and now I feel it is useless.”
“There is mercy still,” replied Terry; “you know the ould sayin’,
‘Mercy craved and mercy found
Between the saddle and the ground.’”
The old man replied not, but shook his head, indicating his determination to die without the consolations of religion, whilst Terry trembled for his hopeless situation.
“Well, since you won’t have the priest, will you give me some money till I bring you the doctor?” said Terry.
The old man’s eyes literally flashed fire, his form heaved with rage, and his countenance displayed demoniac indignation.
“What’s that you say?” he demanded in a ferocious tone.