They accordingly waited, on him; and after Bartley
and his friends had given as faithful a report of the circumstances as,
considering all things, could be expected, he told Bartley he would hear
from Mrs. Sullivan's own lips the authentic narrative. This was quite
satisfactory, and what was expected from him. As for himself, he
appeared to take no particular interest in the matter, further than that
of allaying the ferment and alarm which had spread through the parish.
"Plase your Reverence," said Bartley, "she came in to Mary, and she
alone in the house, and for the matther o' that, I believe she laid
hands upon her, and tossed and tumbled the crathur, and she but a sickly
woman, through the four corners of the house. Not that Mary lets an so
much, for she's afeard; but I know from her way, when she spakes about
her, that it's thruth, your Reverence."
"But didn't the _Lianhan Shee_," said one of them, "put a sharp-pointed
knife to her breast, wid a divilish intintion of makin' her give the
best of aitin' an' dhrinkin' the house afforded?"
"She got the victuals, to a sartinty," replied Bartley, "and 'overlooked'
my woman for her pains; for she's not the picture of herself since."
Every one now told some magnified and terrible circumstance,
illustrating the formidable power of the _Lianhan Shee_.
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