“Just so, my lord,” said Tom, smiling; “poor thing! what a melancholy delusion.”
“I was present at the accident, Mr. Norton,” added Morty, boldly, “and remember the circumstance, in throth, very well. Didn't the poor woman lose her senses by it?”
“Yes,” replied Tom, “I have just mentioned the circumstance to his lordship.”
“And—beg pardon, Mr. Norton—doesn't she take you for her husband from that day to this?”
“Yes, so I have said.”
“Oh, God help her, poor thing! Isn't she to be pitied?” added Morty, with a dry roguish glance at Mr. Norton; “throth, she has a hard fate of it. Howaniver, she is gone. I got her off, an' now the place is I clear of the unfortunate creature. The lord look to her!”
The servants then withdrew, and Norton made his parting bow to Lord Cullamore, whom we now leave to his meditations on the subject of this interview.