“Nearer—­nearer,” she exclaimed, “they are nearer—­whippin’ and spurrin’ their horses!  Hugh O’Regan, that was the sun of my life, and of my heart, and ever without a cloud, hasten to the God of mercy!  Oh, surely, you will not blame your own Mary that was your lovin’ wife—­and the treasure of your young and manly heart, for wishin’ to see you taken from her eyes—­and for wishing to see the eyes that,never looked upon us all but with love and kindness, closed on us forever.  Oh,” said she, putting her hands to her forehead, “an’ is it—­is it come to this—­that I that was dearer to him than his own life a thousand times, should now be glad to see him die—­be glad to see him die!  Oh! they are here,” she shrieked, “before the door—­you may hear their horses’ feet!  Hugh O’Regan,” and her voice became louder and more energetic—­“the white-skinned—­the fair of hair, the strong of hand, and the true of heart—­as you ever loved me that was once your happy bride—­as you ever loved the religion of our holy church—­as you hope for happiness and mercy, hasten from me—­from our orphan—­from all—­oh, hasten to the arms of your God!”

During this scene there was a solemn silence in the house, the priest and Harman having both been struck mute at the solemnity of the scene.

“They are here—­they are here!” she screamed.  “Oh, sun of my heart, think not now of me, nor of the children of your love, for we will follow you in time—­but think of the happy country you’re going to,—­to live in the sunshine of heaven, among saints and angels for ever!  Oh, sun of my heart, think too of what you lave behind you!  What is it?  Oh! what is it to you—­but poverty, and misery, and hardship—­the cowld cabin and the damp bed—­the frost of the sky—­the frown of power, and the scourge of law—­all this, oh, right hand of my affection, with the hard labor and the scanty food, do you fly from!  Sure we had no friend in this world to protect or defend us against them that, would trample us under their feet!  No friend for us because we are poor, and no friend for our religion because it is despised.  Then hasten, hasten, O light of my heart—­and take refuge in the mercy of your God!”

“Mary,” said the priest, who had his eyes fixed upon the sick man, “Give God thanks, he is dead—­and beyond the reach of human enmity forever.”

She immediately prostrated herself on the floor in token of humility and thanksgiving—­then raising her eyes to heaven, she said, “may the heart of the woeful widow be grateful to the God who has taken him to his mercy before they came upon him!  But here they are, and now I am not afraid of them.  They can’t insult my blessed husband now, nor murdher him, as his father’s villains did our dyin’ son, on the cowld Esker of Drum Dhu; nor disturb him with their barbarous torments on the bed of death—­and glory be to God for that!”