About dusk, on the evening of that day, Poll Doolin having put on her black bonnet, prepared to go out upon some matter of a private nature, as was clearly evident by her manner, and the cautious nature of all her movements. Raymond, who eyed her closely, at length said—
“Take care now—don't harm them.”
“Them!” replied Poll, “who do you mean by them?”
“The M'Loughlins—go and look at Mary, and then ask yourself why you join the divil:—there now, that's one. Who saved me? do you know that, or do you care? Very well, go now and join the divil, if you like, but I know what I'll do some fine night. Here he leaped in a state of perfect exultation from the ground.
“Why, what will you do?” said Poll.
“You'll not tell to-morrow,” replied Raymond, “neither will any one else; but I don't forget poor white-head, nor Mary M'Loughlin.”
“Well, keep the house like a good boy,” she said, “till I come back; and, if anybody should come in, or ask where I am, say that I went up to Jerry Hannigan's for soap and candles.”
“Ay, but that's not true, because I know you're goin' to join the divil; but, no matter—go there—you'll have his blessin' any how, and it's long since he gave it to you—with his left hand. I wish I wasn't your son—but no matther, no matther.”
She then peeped out to see that the coast was clear, and finding that all was safe, she turned her steps hurriedly and stealthily, in a direction leading from, instead of to Castle Cumber. When she was gone, Raymond immediately closed and bolted the door, and began as before, to spring up in the air in a most singular and unaccountable manner. The glee, however, which became apparent on his countenance, had an expression of ferocity that was frightful; his eyes gleamed with fire, his nostrils expanded, and a glare of terrible triumph lit up every feature with something of a lurid light.
“Ha, ha!” he exclaimed, addressing, as some imaginary individual, an old pillow which he caught up; “I have you at last—now, now, now; ha, you have a throat, have you? I feel it now, now, now! Ay, that will do; hoo, hoo—out with it, out with it; I see the tip of it only, but you must give better measure ay, that's like it. Hee, hee, hee! Oh, there—that same tongue never did you good, nor anybody else good—and what blessed eyes you have! they are comin' out, too, by degrees, as the lawyers goes to Heaven! Now! now! now! ay, where's your strugglin' gone to? It's little you'll make of it in Raymond's iron fingers—Halloo, this is for white-head, and white-head's—poor little white-head's—-father, and for poor little white-head's mother, and this—ay, the froth's comin' now, now, now—and this last's for poor Mary M'Loughlin! Eh, ho, ho! There now—settled at last, with your sweet grin upon you, and your tongue out, as if you were makin' fun of me—for a beauty you were, and a beauty you are, and there I lave you!”