He seized the rushlight from Sullivan, and approaching the coat, held it so close to it, that had there been the slightest possible motion, it could not have escaped their observation.
“Now,” he added, “you see whether it moves or not; but, indeed, the poor girl is so frightened by the great scowldin' she got, that I don't wondher at the way she's in.”
Mrs. Sullivan kept still gazing at the coat, in a state of terror almost equal to that of her daughter.
“Well,” said she, “I've often heard it said that one is sometimes to disbelieve their own eyes; an' only that I known the thing couldn't happen, I would swear on the althar that I seen it movin'.”
“I thought so myself, too,” observed Sullivan, who also seemed to have been a good deal perplexed and awed by the impression; “but of coorse I agree wid Donnel, that it was the unsteady light of the rush that made us think so; howaniver, it doesn't matther now; move or no move, it won't bring him that owned it back to us, so God rest him!—and now, Bridget, thry an' get us some-thin' to ait.”
“Before the girl leaves the room,” said the prophecy man, “let me spake what I think an' what I know. I've lost many a weary day an' night in studyin' the further, an' in lookin' into what's to come. I must spake, then, what I think an' what I know, regardin' her. I must; for when the feelin' is on me, I can't keep the prophecy back.”
“Oh! let me go, mother,” exclaimed the alarmed girl; “let me go; I can't bear to look at him.”
“One minute, acushla, till you hear what he has to say to you,” and she held her back, with a kind of authoritative violence, as Mave attempted to leave the room.
“Don't be alarmed my purty creature,” spoke the prophet; “don't be alarmed at what I'm goin' to say to you, an' about you, for you needn't. I see great good fortune before you. I see a grand an' handsome husband at your side, and a fine house to live in. I see stairs, an' carpets, an' horses, an' hounds, an' yourself, with jewels in your white little ears, an' silks, an' satins on your purty figure. That's a wakin' dhrame I had, an' you may all mark my words, if it doesn't come out thrue; it's on the leaf, an' the leaf was open to me. Grandeur an' wealth is before her, for her beauty an' her! goodness will bring it all about, an' so I read it.”
“An' what about the husband himself?” asked the mother, whose affections caused! her to feel a strong interest in anything that might concern the future interest of her daughter; “can you tell us nothing about his appearance, that we might give a guess at him?”