He then raised his hand, as if in caution, and whispered—“Whisht! here is where the murdhered man's body lies.”
“I'll not do it,” said Sarah, “I'll not do it; it would be mane and ungenerous to ax him a question that might make him betray himself.”
At this moment the moon which had been for some time risen, presented a strange and alarming aspect. She seemed red as blood; and directly across her centre there went a black bar—a bar so ominously and intensely black, that it was impossible to look upon it without experiencing something like what one might be supposed to feel in the presence of a supernatural appearance; at the performance of some magic or unnatural rite, where the sorcerer, by the wickedness of his spell, forced her, as it were, thus to lend a dreadful and reluctant sanction to his proceedings.
Her father, however, proceeded: “Ay—who murdhered him, my lord? Why, my lord—hem—it was—Condy Dalton, an' I have another man to prove it along wid myself—one Rody Duncan; now Rody answer strong; swear home; mind yourself, Rody.”
These words were spoken aside, precisely as one would address them when instructing any person to give a particular line of evidence. He then stooped down, and placed his hand upon the grave said, as if he were addressing the dead man:
“Ha! you sleep cool there, you guilty Villain! an' it wasn't my fault that the unfaithful an' dishonest sthrap that you got that for, didn't get as much herself. There you are, an' you'll tell no tales at all events! You know, Rody,” he proceeded, “it was Dalton that murdhered him; mind that—but you're a coward at heart; as for myself there's nothing troubles me but that Tobaccy-Box; but you know nothing about that; may the divil confound me, at any rate, for not destroyin' it! an' that ould sthrap, Nelly, suspects something; for she's always ringin Providence into my ears; but if I had that box destroyed, I'd disregard Providence; if there is a Providence.”
The words had barely proceeded out of his lips, when a peal of thunder, astonishingly loud, broke, as it were, over their very heads, having been preceded by a flash of lightning, so bright, that the long, well-defined grave was exposed, in all its lonely horrors, to Sarah's eye.
“That's odd, now,” said she, “that the thunder should come as he said them very words; but thank God that it was Dalton that did the deed, for if it was himself he'd not keep it back now, when the truth would be sure to come out.”
“It was he, my lord, and gentlemen of the jury,” proceeded her father, “an' my conscience, my lord, during all this long time—”
He here muttered something which she could not understand, and after stooping down, and putting his hand on the grave a second time, he turned about and retraced his steps home. It appeared, however, that late as the hour was, there were other persons abroad as well as themselves, for Sarah could distinctly hear the footsteps of several persons passing along the adjoining road, past the Grey Stone, and she also thought that among the rest might be distinguished the voice of Red Rody Duncan. The Prophet quietly opened the door, entered as usual, and went to bed; Sarah having also retired to her own little sleeping place, lay for some time, musing deeply over the incidents of the night.