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The Black Prophet: A Tale Of Irish Famine - Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of - William Carleton, Volume Three by William Carleton
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of ultimate bloodshed--and that these domestic brawls might unhappily
terminate in the death of either. She felt that her own temper was none
of the best, and knew that so long as she was incapable of restraining
it, or maintaining her coolness under the provocations to which the
violent passions of Sarah would necessarily expose her, so long must
such conflicts as that which had just occurred take place between them.
She began now to fear Sarah, with whose remorseless disposition she
was too well acquainted, and came to the natural conclusion, that a
residence under the same roof was by no means compatible with her own
safety.

"She has been a curse to me!" she went on, unconsciously speaking aloud;
"for when she wasn't able to bate me herself, her father did it for her.
The divil is said to be fond of his own; an' so does he dote on her,
bekase she's his image in everything that's bad. A hard life I'll lead
between them from this out, espeshially now that she's got the upper
hand of me. Yet what else can I expect or desarve? This load that is on
my conscience is worse. Night and day I'm sufferin' in the sight of God,
an' actin' as if I wasn't to be brought in judgment afore him. What am
I to do? I wish I was in my grave! But then, agin', how am I to face
death?--and that same's not the worst; for afther death comes judgment!
May the Lord prepare me for it, and guide and direct me how to act! One
thing, I know, must be done--either she or I will lave this house; for
live undher the same roof wid her I will not."

She then rose up, looked out of the door a moment, and, resuming her
seat, went on with her soliloquy--

"No; he said it was likely he wouldn't be home to-night. Wanst he gets
upon his ould prophecies, he doesn't care how long he stays away; an'
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