Ha, ha, ha!—but come, boys, pull away; we'll finish the wreck of this house, at any rate.”
“Wreck away,” said Sarah, “I have nothin' to do with that; but I think them women—man-women I ought to call them—might consider that there's many a starvin' mouth that would be glad to have a little of what they're throwin' about so shamefully. Do you come with me, Darby; I'll save you as far as I can, an' as long as I'm able.”
“I will, achora,” replied Darby, “an' may God bless you, for you have saved my life; but why should they attack me? Sure the world knows, an' God knows, that my heart bleeds—”
“Whisht,” she exclaimed, “the world an' God both know it's a lie, if you say your heart bleeds for any thing but the destruction that you see on your place. If you had given Peggy Murtagh the meal, she might be a livin' woman to-day; so no more falsehoods now, or I'll turn you back to Tom Dalton's clutches.”
“No, then,” replied the trembling wretch, “I won't; but between you an' me, then,—an' it needn't go farther—troth my heart bleeds for the severity that's—”
“One word more,” she replied, “an' I lave you to what you'll get.”
Sarah's interference had a singular effect upon the crowd. The female portion of it having reflected upon her words, soon felt and acknowledged their truth, because they involved a principle of justice and affection to their sex; while the men, without annexing any moral consideration to the matter, felt themselves influenced by her exquisite figure and great beauty.
“She's the Black Prophet's daughter,” exclaimed the women; “an' if the devil was in her, she tould Tom Dalton nothing but the truth, at any rate.”
“An' they say the devil is in her, the Lord save us, if ever he was in any one—keep away from her—my sowl in Heaven! but she'd think no more of tearin' your eyes out, or stickin' you wid a case-knife, than you would of aitin' bread an' butther.”
“Blessed Father!” exclaimed another, “did you see the brightness of her eyes while she was spakin?”