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 into a condensed shriek that breathed the very luxury of revenge, she said—­

“Lamh Laudher Oge, listen—­ax the father of you, when you see him, what has become of his own child—­of the first that ever God sent him; an’ listen again—­when he tells me what has become of mine, I’ll tell him what has become of his, Now go to Ellen—­but before you go, let me cuggher in your ear that I’ll blast you both.  I’ll make the Lamh Laudhers, Lamh Lhugs.  I’ll make the strong arm the weak arm afore I’ve done wid ’em.”

She struck the point of her stick against the pavement, until the iron ferrule with which it was bound dashed the fire from the stones, after which she passed on, muttering threats and imprecations as she left him.

O’Rorke stood and looked after her with sensations of fear and astonishment.  The age was superstitious, and encouraged a belief in the influence of powers distinct from human agency.  Every part of Ireland was filled at this time with characters, both male and female, precisely similar to old Nell M’Collum..  The darkness in which this woman walked, according to the opinions of a people but slightly advanced in knowledge and civilization, has been but feebly described to the reader.  To meet her, was considered an omen of the most unhappy kind; a circumstance which occasioned the imprecation of Lamh Laudher.  She was reported to have maintained an intercourse with the fairies, to be capable of communicating the blight of an evil eye, and to have carried on a traffic which is said to have been rather prevalent in Ireland at the time we speak of—­namely, that of kidnapping.