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Updated: May 29, 2025
Macruadh called Nancy, and told her to bring the tea-tray, and then, get ready for Mistress Conal the room next Nancy's own, that she might be near to wait on her; and thither, when warmed and fed, the chief carried her. But the terrible excitement had so thinned the mainspring of her time-watch, that it soon broke. She did not live many weeks.
"I confess," returned Alister, "if I had foreseen what an idea of the gentlemen of the country I might give, I should have hesitated. But I haven't begun to be ashamed yet!" "Ashamed, Alister!" cried Ian. "What does it matter what a fellow like that thinks of you?" "And mistress Conal has her shilling!" said the mother.
In 1346, under Conal O'Moore, they destroyed the foreign strongholds of Ley and Kilmehedie; and though Conal was slain by the English, and Rory, one of their creatures, placed in his stead, the tribe put Rory to death as a traitor in 1354, and for two centuries thereafter upheld their independence.
When the fire began to run up the roof, Mistress Conal broke from him, and darted to the door. Every one rushed to seize her, Mr. Palmer with the rest. "Blackie! Blackie! Blackie!" she shrieked like a madwoman.
"Small fear for him," said a man's voice from the little crowd, "if half be true !" Apparently the speaker dared no more. "Fire won't singe a hair of him, Mistress Conal," said another voice. "You know it; he's used to it!" "Come along, and let's get it over!" cried the leader of the ejection-party.
"You too, my chief!" she cried. "You turned against the poor of your people!" "No, Mistress Conal," he answered. "I am too much your friend to let you kill yourself!" "We have orders, Macruadh, to set fire to the hovel," said one of the men, touching his hat respectfully. "They'll roast my black one!" shrieked the old woman.
He bawled out and his bawl was mingled with a scream to take the brute off him, and his own men hurried to his rescue; but the fury-frantic animal had dug his claws and teeth into his face, and clung to him so that they had to choke him off. The chief caught up Mistress Conal and carried her away: there was no danger of any one hurting Mr. Palmer now!
But many a Celt would forgive, and forgive thoroughly and heartily, with his enemy in his power, who, so long as he remained beyond his reach, could not even imagine circumstances in which they might be reconciled. To a Celt the summit of wrong is a slight, but apology is correspondingly potent with him. Mistress Conal, however, had not the excuse of a specially courteous nature.
"I am sorry, mistress Conal; but we'll not be losing them," returned the laird gently, and began to feel about the road for the fallen peats. "How many were there, do you think, of them that fell?" he asked, rising after a vain search. "How should I be knowing!
"Well, whether you are tired or not, I believe I am the stronger of the two!" "Small doubt of that, Alister!" said mistress Conal with a sigh. "Then I will take your creel, and you will soon be home. Come along! It is going to be a wild night!" So saying he took the rope from the neck of the old woman right gently, and threw the creel with a strong swing over his shoulder.
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