“‘It’s a long sleep,’ she said, without noticing the question, ’a long sleep—­well, they want it, poor things, for there was but little for them but care, and cowld, and hardship—­Sure we had sickness—­Torley left us first; but,—­let me see,—­where did Poor Brian go?  Well, no matter, we had sickness, as I said, and sometimes we had little or nothing to eat, but sure still wasn’t my hand tendher about them.  I felt my heart in my fingers when I touched them, and, if I gave them a drink didn’t my heart burn, and oh! it was then I knew how I loved them!  Whisht, then, poor things—­och sure I’ll do my best—­I’ll struggle for you as well as I can—­you have none but me to do it—­it’s not the black wather I’d give my darlin’ child if I had betther; but gruel is what I can’t get, for the sorra one grain of mail is undher the roof wid me; but I’ll warm the cowld potato for my pet, and you can play wid it till you fall asleep, accushla.  Yes, I will kiss you; for afther all, isn’t that the richest little treat that your poor mother has to comfort you with in your poor cowld sick bed—­one and all o’ ye.’

“Here she rocked herself to and fro, precisely as if she had been sitting by the sick bed, then stooping down a third time, she kissed the earth that contained them once more—­

“‘Ah,’ she exclaimed, ’how cowld their lips are! how cowld my white-haired boy’s lips are! and their sleep is long—­Oh! but their sleep is long!’

“Raymond, during these incoherent expressions, stood mutely beside her, his lips, however, often moving, as if he were communing with himself, or endeavoring to shape some words of rude comfort in her sorrows; but ever and anon, as he seemed to go about it, his face moved with feelings which he could not utter, like the surface of a brook stirred by the breeze that passes over it.  At length he laid his hand gently on her shoulder, and exclaimed in a tone of wild and thrilling compassion—­

“‘Mary!’

“She then started for a moment, and looking around her with something like curiosity rather than alarm, replied—­

“‘Well—­’

“‘Mary,’ said he, ’make haste and go to heaven; make haste and go to heaven—­you’ll find them all there—­Hugh Regan, and Torley, and little Brian.  Don’t stop here, for there will be more blood, more bloodhounds, and more Val M’Clutchy’s.’

“She did not seem to have noticed his particular words, but there appeared to have been some association awakened which gave a new impulse to her thoughts—­

“‘Come away,’ said she, ‘come away!’

“Raymond turned, and looking towards where I stood, beckoned me to follow them; and truly it was a touching sight to see this unregulated attempt of the poor innocent, to sooth the heavy sorrows—­if such they were now—­of one of whose malady could appreciate no sympathy, and whose stricken heart was apparently beyond the reach of consolation forever.

“Both now proceeded in silence, Raymond still holding her by the hand, and affording her every assistance, as we crossed the fields, in order to shorten the path which led us to the Castle Cumber road.  On coming to a ditch, for instance, he would lift her, but still with care and gentleness, in his powerful arms, and place her, with scarcely any effort of her own strength, which, indeed, was nearly gone, safely and easily upon the other side.