“Come here, poor woman,” said Sarah, calling her back; “it is for you.  If these two choose to let you and your childhre die or starve, I won’t;” and she went to the meal to serve them as she spoke.

The woman returned, and looked with considerable surprise at her; but Nelly went also to the meal, and was about to interpose, when Sarah’s frame became excited, and her eyes flashed, as they always did when in a state of passion.

“If you’re wise, don’t prevent me,” she said.  “Help these creatures I will.  I’m your match now, an’ more than your match, thank God; so be quiet.”

“If I was to die for it, you won’t have your will now, then,” said Nelly.

“Die when you like, then,” replied Sarah; “but help that poor woman an’ her childhre I will.”

“Fight it out,” said Donnel Dhu, “its a nice quarrel, although Sal has the right on her side.”

“If you prevent me,” said she, disregarding her step-mother, “you’ll rue it quickly; or hould—­I’m beginnin’ to hate this kind of quarrellin’—­here, let her have as much meal as will make my supper; I’ll do without any for the sake of the childhre, this night.”

This was uttered in a tone of voice more mitigated, but at the same time so resolute, that Nelly stepped back and left her to pursue her own course.

She then took a wooden trencher, and with a liberal hand assisted the poor creatures, who began to feel alarmed at the altercation which their distress had occasioned in the family.

“You’re starvin’, childre,” said she, whilst emptying the meal into the poor woman’s bag.

“May the blessin’ of God rest upon you,” whispered the woman, “you’ve saved my orphans;” and, as she uttered the words, her hollow eyes filled, and a few tears ran slowly down her cheeks.

Sarah gave a short, loud laugh, and snatching up the youngest of the children, stroked its head and patted its cheek, exclaiming—­

“Poor thing; you won’t go without your supper this night, at any rate.”

She then laughed again in the same quick, abrupt manner, and returned into the house.

“Why, then,” said her step-mother, looking at her with mingled anger and disdain, “is it tears you’re sheddin’—­cryin’, no less!  Afther that, maricles will never cease.”

Sarah turned towards her hastily; the tears, in a moment, were dried upon her cheeks, and as she looked at her hard, coarse, but well-shaped features, her eyes shone with a brilliant and steady light for more than a minute.  The expression was at once; lofty and full of strong contempt, and, as she stood in this singular but striking mood, it would indeed be difficult to conceive a finer type of energy, feeling, and beauty, than that which was embodied in her finely-turned and exquisite figure.  Having thus contemplated the old woman for some time, she looked upon the ground, and her face passed rapidly into a new form and expression of beauty.  It at once became soft and full of melancholy, and might have been mistaken for an impersonation of pity and sorrow.