“That's more than I know,” replied this grateful youth; “I neither saw nor heard you, if you were.”
“It matters not,” replied the other, “let me assist you to rise.”
“I can rise myself now,” said he, getting up and staggering; “I'll transport you and that d——d savage, Rimon the hatter. You are a po-popish priest, and you cannot be he-here at this time of night for much good. Never fear but I'll make you give an account of yourself, my old buck.”
The, reader is already aware that Phil had been far advanced in intoxication previously; but when we take into account the fearful throttling he received, and the immense rush of blood which must have taken place to the brain, we need not be surprised that he should relapse into the former symptoms of his intoxication, or, in other words, that its influence should be revived in him, in consequence of the treatment he received.
“I think,” continued Phil, “that I have got you and Rimon in my power now, and damn my hon-honor, may be we won't give you a chase a-across the country that'll put mettle into your heels; hip, hip, hurrah! Ay, and may be we won't give big M'—M'Cabe, or M'Flail, a ran that will do him good too, hip, hip—so good—good-night till I see you-you just as you ought to be—knitting your stock-cooking like Biddy O'Doherty; hip!”
He then staggered on homewards, half stupid from the strangulation scene, and very far removed from sobriety, in consequence of the copious libations of brandy he had swallowed in the course of the day and evening.
“Good night, Captain Phil,” cried Raymond after him; “when will you come to the hills to meet Bet M'Cracken again?—Ha ha there now, that's one.”
“Poor infatuated young man,” exclaimed Father Roche; “if you were not so completely an object of contempt, you would surely be one of compassion. May God in his mercy pity and relieve the unfortunate people whose destinies, domestic comforts, and general happiness, are to such an extent in the keeping of men like you and your wretched father—men who breathe an atmosphere rank with prejudices of the worst description, and hot with a spirit of persecution that is as free from just policy as it is from common sense! When will this mad spirit of discord between Christians—mad, I call it, whether it poison religion, politics, or inflame religion—be banished by mutual charity, and true liberty, from our unhappy country? and when will the rulers of that country learn that most important secret, how to promote the happiness of the people without degradation on the one hand, or insolent triumph on the other?”
O'Regan's return with the neighbors from the lower country, was somewhat, and yet not much, more protracted than Father Roche had expected. Considering everything, however, there was little time lost, for he had brought about a dozen and a half of the villagers with him. Having reached the cold bed where she lay, and where all her affections had dwelt, they placed her upon a door, and having covered her body with a cloak brought for the purpose, the little solitary procession directed their steps to that humble roof which had been, ever since Father Roche occupied it, a sheltering one to destitution, and poverty, and repentance.
As they began to move away, O'Regan said—