The speculations with reference to her object in perpetrating the crimes were strongly calculated to exhibit the degraded state of the people at that period.  Some said that she disposed of the children to a certain class of persons in the metropolis, who subsequently sent them to the colonies, when grown, at an enormous profit.  Others maintained that she never carried them to Dublin at all, but insisted that, having been herself connected with the fairies, she possessed the power of erasing, by some secret charm, the influence of baptismal protection, and that she consequently acted as agent for the “gentry” to whom she transferred them.  Even to this day it is the opinion in Ireland, that the “good people” themselves cannot take away a child, except through the instrumentality of some mortal residing with them, who has been baptized; and it is also believed that no baptism can secure children from them, except that in which the priest has been desired to baptize them with an especial view to their protection against fairy power.

Such was the character which this woman bore; whether unjustly or not, matters little.  For the present it is sufficient to say, that after having passed on, leaving Lamh Laudher to proceed in the direction he had originally intended, she bent her steps towards the head inn of the town.  Her presence here produced some cautious and timid mirth of which they took care she should not be cognizant.  The servants greeted her with an outward show of cordiality, which the unhappy creature easily distinguished from the warm kindness evinced to vagrants whose history had not been connected with evil suspicion and mystery.  She accordingly tempered her manner and deportment towards them with consummate skill.  Her replies to their inquiries for news were given with an appearance of good humor; but beneath the familiarity of her dialogue there lay an ambiguous meaning and a cutting sarcasm, both of which were tinged with a prophetic spirit, capable, from its equivocal drift, of being applied to each individual whom she addressed.  Owing to her unsettled life, and her habit of passing from place to place, she was well acquainted with local history.  There lived scarcely a family within a very wide circle about her, of whom she did not know every thing that could possibly be known; a fact of which she judiciously availed herself by allusions in general conversations that were understood only by those whom they concerned.  These mysterious hints, oracularly thrown out, gained her the reputation of knowing more than mere human agency could acquire, and of course she was openly conciliated and secretly hated.

Her conversation with the menials of the inn was very short and decisive.

“Sheemus,” said she to the person who acted in the capacity of waiter, “where’s Meehaul Neil?”

“Troth, Nell, dacent woman,” replied the other, “myself can’t exactly say that.  I’ll be bound he’s on the Esker, looking afther the sheep, poor crathurs, durin’ Andy Connor’s illness in the small-pock.  Poor Andy’s very ill, Nell, an’ if God hasn’t sed it, not expected; glory be to his name!”