“Thank you, sir,” said Poll, “that's just what I wish. Well, he, M'Loughlin, transported my boy, that my heart was in, and from that minute I swore never to die till I'd revenge that act upon him. Very well—I kept my word. Phil M'Clutchy sent for me, and in his father's presence, we made up a plot to disgrace Miss M'Loughlin. I brought her out two or three times to meet me privately, and it was all on your account, by the way, for I tould her you were in danger; and I so contrived it, that on one or two occasions you should see myself and her together. I made her promise solemnly not to tell that she saw me, or mention what passed between us, or if she did, that your life was not safe; her love for you, kept her silent even to yourself. But it was when you were sent to gaol, that we found we had the best opportunity of ruining her, which was all I wanted: but Phil, the boy, wished to give you a stab as well as her. As for myself it was in for a penny, in for a pound with me, and I didn't care a traheen what you suffered, provided I had my revenge on any one belongin' to Brian M'Loughlin, that transported my son.”
“Is Mary M'Loughlin innocent?” asked Harman, starting from his seat, and placing his face within a few inches of Poll Doolin's.
Poll calmly put her hand upon his shoulder, and said:—
“Sit down, young man; don't disturb or stop me in what I'm sayin', and you'll come the sooner at the truth.”
“You are right,” he replied, “but who can blame me?—my happiness depends on it.”
“Listen,” said she, “we made up a plan that she was to meet Phil behind her father's garden—and why? Why, because I told her that Val had made up his mind to hang you; but I said that Phil, for her sake, could prevent that, and save you, if she would only see him that he might clear himself of some reports that had gone abroad on him. For your sake she consented to that; but not until I had brought her nearly to despair, and till she believed that there was no other hope for you. It was Val M'Clutchy, though, that put me up to bring several of the neighbors, and among the rest your own cousin, to witness the trick of Phil's gettin' in at the windy; as it was his to bring the bloodhounds, at the very minute, to catch the scoundrel in the poor girl's bedroom. That was enough; all the wather in the say couldn't wash her white, when this was given to the tongue of scandal to work upon.”
“But,” said Mr. Clement, “you unfortunate woman, let me ask, why you suffered Mr. Harman to live under a conviction of Miss M'Loughlin's guilt?”
“I tould you I had sworn to be revenged on either him, M'Loughlin, or his; and so I was—may God forgive me!—but one day that my poor foolish son undertook to convey Hugh Roe O'Regan's wife across the ford of Drum Dhu river while in a flood, he lost his footing, and never would breathe the breath of life again, only that God sent John M'Loughlin to the spot, and at the risk of his own life, he saved poor Raymond's. From that day out my heart changed. If one son was sent from me in life, the other was saved from death; and I swore to tell you the truth. But that's not the only injury I have done you. They put me up, and so did Solomon M'Slime, to drop hints wherever I went, that you and Mr. M'Loughlin were on the point of failin'; and, I believe, from some words I heard Phil say to Solomon one morning, that they put something into the paper that injured you.”
“What was it you heard?” said Hickman.
“Phil said—'all right, Solomon, it's in—and—d—n my honor and reputation, but it will set a screw loose in the same firm;' he was reading the paper as he spoke.”