married? Your father, Lamh Laudher was the man that blasted my name, and
made it bitther upon tongue of them that mintions it."

"And that was because he wouldn't see one wid the blood of Lamh Laudher
in his veins married to a woman that he had reason to think--I don't
like to my it, Nelly--but you know it is said that there was darkness,
and guilt, too, about the disappearin' of your child. You never cleared
that up, but swore revenge night and day against my father, for only
preventin' you from bein' the ruination of his cousin. Many a time, too,
since that, has asked you in my own hearing what became of the boy."

The old woman stopped like one who had unexpectedly trod with bare foot
upon something sharp enough to pierce the flesh to the bone, and even
to grate against it. There was a strong, nay, a fearful force of anguish
visible in what she felt. Her brows were wildly depressed from their
natural position, her face became pale, her eyes glared upon O'Rorke as
if he had planted a poisoned arrow in her breast, she seized him by the
arm with a hard pinching grip, and looked for two or three minutes in
his face, with an appearance of distraction. O'Rorke, who never feared
man, shrunk from her touch, and shuddered under the influence of what
had been, scarcely without an exception, called the "bad look." The
crone held him tight, however, and there they stood, with their eyes
fixed upon each other. From the gaze of intense anguish, the countenance
of Nell M'Collum began to change gradually to one of unmingled
exultation; her brows were raised to their proper curves, her color
returned, the eye corruscated with a rapid and quivering sense of
delight, the muscles of the mouth played for a little, as if she strove
to suppress a laugh. At length O'Rorke heard a low gurgling sound
proceed from her chest; it increased; she pressed his arm more tightly,
and in a loud burst of ferocious mirth, which she immediately subdued