Lamh Laudher More and his wife were proceeding to bring
her towards the door for air, when Nell M'Collum insisted on a prior
right to render her that service. "Begone, you servant of the devil,"
exclaimed the old man, "your wicked breath is bad about any one else;
you won!t lay a hand upon her."
"Don't let her, for heaven's sake!" said his wife; "her eye will kill the
woman!"
"You are not aware," said the magistrate, "that this woman is her
daughter?"
"Whose daughter, please your honor," said the old man indignantly.
"Nell M'Collum's," he returned.
"It's as false as hell!" rejoined O'Rorke, "beggin' your honor's pardon
for sayin' so. I mean it's false for Nell, if she says it. Nell, sir,
never had a daughter, an' she knows that; but she had a son, an' she
knows best what became of him."
Nell, however, resolved not to be deterred from getting-the stranger
into her own hands. With astonishing strength and fury she attempted to
drag the insensible creature from O'Rorke's grasp; but the magistrate,
disgusted at her violence, ordered two of the persons present to hold
her down.
At length the woman began to recover.
She sobbed aloud, and a copious flow of tears drenched her cheeks. Nell
ordered her to tear herself from O'Rorke and his wife:-- "Their hands
are bad about you," she exclaimed, "and their son has robbed you, Mary.
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