“What do you mane?” said Neil; “but no matter—I don't want it. There—to the divil with it;” and as he spoke he threw it over the roof of the adjoining house.
“Now give up my sister or take the consequence.”
“Meehaul, go home, I say. You know I don't fear any single man that ever breathed; but, above all men on this earth, I wish to avoid a quarrel with you. Do you think, in the mean time, that even if I didn't care a straw for your sister, I could be mane enough to let myself be bullied out of her by you, or any of your faction? Never, Meehaul; so spare your breath, an' go home.”
Several common acquaintances had collected about them, who certainly listened to this angry dialogue between the two faction leaders with great interest. Both were powerful men, young, strong, and muscular. Meehaul, of the two, was taller, his height being above six feet, his strength, courage, and activity, unquestionably very great. Lamh Laudher, however, was as fine a model of physical strength, just proportion, and manly beauty as ever was created; his arms, in particular, were of terrific strength, a physical advantage so peculiar to his family as to occasion the epithet by which it was known. He had scarcely uttered the reply we have I written, when Meehaul, with his whole! strength, aimed a blow at his stomach, which the other so far turned aside, as to bring it I higher up on his chest. He staggered back, after receiving it, about seven or eight yards, but did not fall. His eye literally blazed, and for a moment he seemed disposed to act! under the strong impulse of self-defence. The solemnity of his promise to Ellen, however, recurred to him in time to restrain his uplifted arm. By a strong and sudden effort he endeavored to compose himself, and succeeded. He approached Meehaul, and with as much calmness as he could assume, said—
“Meehaul, I stand before you an' you may strike, but I won't return your blows: I have reasons for it, but I tell you the truth.”
“You won't fight?” said Meehaul, with mingled rage and scorn.
“No,” replied the other, “I won't fight you.”
A murmur of “shame” and “coward” was heard from those who had been drawn together by their quarrel.
“Dher ma chorp,” they exclaimed with astonishment, “but Lamh Laudher's afeard of him!—the garran bane's in him, now that he finds he has met his match.”
“Why, hard fortune to you, Lamh Laudher, will you take a blow from a Neil? Are you goin' to disgrace your name?”