“Wait,” said Sarah, “I'll speak to them before they come in.” And, ere the words were uttered, she met them.
“Come here, Mrs. Dalton,” said she; “stop a minute, speak to this poor girl, and support her. These sogers, and the constables inside, is come about Sullivan's business, long ago.”
“I know it,” replied Mrs. Dalton; “I've just heard all about it, there beyond; but she,” pointing to her daughter, “has only crossed the ditch from the commons, and joined me this minute.”
“Give me these,” said Sarah to the girl, “and stay here till I come out again, wet as it is. Your mother will tell you why.”
She took the fire from her as she spoke, and, running in, laid it upon the hearth, placing, at the same time, two or three turf about in a hurried manner, but still in a way that argued great presence of mind, amid all her distraction. On going out again, however, the first object she saw was one of the soldiers supporting the body of poor Mary, who had sunk under the intelligence. Mrs. Dalton having entered the cabin, and laid down the miserable pittance of food which she had been carrying, now waved her hand with authority and singular calmness, but at the same time with a face as pallid as death itself.
“This is a solemn hour,” said she, “an' a woful sight in this place of misery. Keep quiet, all of you. I know what this is about, dear Condy,” she said; “I know it; but what is the value of our faith, if it doesn't teach us obedience? Kiss your child, here,” said she, “an' go—or come, I ought to say, for I will go with you. It's not to be wondhered at that she couldn't bear it, weak, and worn, and nearly heartbroken as she is. Bless her, too, before you go. An' this girl,” she said, pointing at Mary, and addressing Sarah, “you will spake to her, an' support her as well as you can, and stay with them all for an hour or two. I can't lave him.”
Dalton, while she spoke, had taken Mary in his arms, kissed her, and, as in the case of the others, blessed her with a fervor only surpassed by his sorrow and utter despair.
“I will stay with them,” said Sarah; “don't doubt that—not for an hour or two, but till they come to either life or death; so I tould him.”
“It's a bitther case,” said Mrs. Dalton; “a bitther case; but then it's God's gracious will, an' them that He loves He chastises. Blessed be His name for all He does, and blessed be His name ever for this!”
Mary now recovered in her father's arms; and her mother, in a low but energetic voice, pointing to the beds, said: