Purcel was actually in the act of springing at him, whip in hand, when, fortunately, the priest interfered, and prevented a conflict which, from the strength and spirit by which the parties were animated, must have been a fearful one.
“What is this?” said the worthy man; “in God's name, what does this scandalous conduct, in such a place, and on such an occasion, mean? Come between these madmen,” he proceeded, addressing the crowd, which had now collected about them. “Keep them asunder!”
The two men were separated; but as each felt himself under the influence of strong resentment, they glared at one another with looks of fiery indignation.
“You had better keep out of my way, you impudent scoundrel,” said Purcel, shaking his whip at him; “and hark ye, make no more attempts to pay attention to any of my sisters, or, by the heavens above me, I will trace you through all your haunts, and flog you as I would a dog.”
“I'll take care to give you the opportunity before long, Squire Purcel, or rather Squireen Purcel,” replied the Buck; “and what is more, I'll see you and yours in my power yet.”
“You're too ready wid your whip, Mr. Purcel,” said several voices from among the crowd; “and you do think it's dogs you have to dale wid, as Mr. English says.”
“No,” said Purcel, with scom; “I deny it; my whip is never raised unless to the shoulders of some slavish, lying, and dishonest scoundrel, whom I prefer to punish rather than to prosecute.”
“Take. care it doesn't come aginst you, then, some o' these days,” said a voice.