“Now,” said she, “I will sit here, and keep him under my eye as long as I can—­surely you won’t blame me for it; you all know the kind husband he was to me, and the good right I have to be sorry for him!  Oh!” she added, “is it thrue at all?—­is he, my own Denis, the young husband of my early—­and my first love, in good airnest, dead, and going to leave me here—­me, Denis, that you loved so tindherly, and our childher, that your brow was never clouded aginst?  Can I believe myself or is it a dhrame?  Denis, avick machree! avick machree!* your hand was dreaded, and a good right it had, for it was the manly hand, that was ever and always raised in defence of them that wanted a friend; abroad, in the faction-fight, against the oppressor, your name was ever feared, acushla?—­but at home—­at home—­where was your fellow Denis, agrah, do you know the lips that’s spaking to you?—­your young bride—­your heart’s light—­Oh!  I remimber the day you war married to me like yesterday.  Oh! avourneen, then and since wasn’t the heart of your own Honor bound up in you—­yet not a word even to me.  Well, agrah, machree, ’tisn’t your fault, it’s the first time you ever refused to spake to your own Honor.  But you’re dead, avourneen, or it wouldn’t be so—­you’re dead before my eyes—­husband of my heart, and all my hopes and happiness goes into the coffin and the grave along wid you, forever!”

     * Son of my heart!  Son of my heart!

All this time she was rocking herself from side to side, her complexion pale and ghastly as could be conceived, and the tears streaming from her eyes.  When the coffin was about to be closed, she retired until it was nailed down, after which she returned with her bonnet and cloak on her, ready to accompany it to the grave.  I was astonished—­for I thought she could not have walked two steps without assistance; but it was the custom, and to neglect it, I found, would have thrown the imputation of insincerity upon her grief.  While they were preparing to bring the coffin out, I could hear the chat and conversation of those who were standing in crowds before the door, and occasionally a loud, vacant laugh, and sometimes a volley of them, responsive to the jokes of some rustic wit, probably the same person who acted master of the revels at the wake.

Before the coffin was finally closed, Ned Corrigan, whom I had put to flight the preceding night, came up, and repeated the De Profundis, in very strange Latin, over the corpse.  When this was finished, he got a jug of holy water, and after dipping his thumb in it, first made the sign of the cross upon his own forehead, and afterwards sprinkled it upon all present, giving my brother and myself an extra compliment, supposing, probably, that we stood most in need, of it.  When this was over, he sprinkled the corpse and the coffin in particular most profusely.  He then placed two pebbles from Lough Derg* and a bit of holy candle, upon the breast of the corpse, and having said a Pater and Ave, in which he was joined by the people, he closed the lid and nailed it down.