dhrive an' bring him back tomorrer. So
the boy wint away, an' O'Moore an' Nora got up an' shtarted. Whin they
came to the crass-road, O'Moore tuk the road to Tipperary.

"'Sure father, ye're wrong,' says Nora, 'that's not the way.'

"'No more is it,' said the owld desayver, 'but I'm afther wantin' to see a
frind o' mine over here a bit an' we'll come round to the Ennis road on
the other side,' says he.

"So Nora thought no more av it, but whin they wint on an' on, widout
shtoppin' at all, she begun to be disquisitive agin.

"'Father, is it to Ennis or not ye're takin' me,' says she.

"Now, be this time, they'd got on a good bit, an' the owld villin seen it
was no use thryin' to desave her any longer.

"'I'm not,' says he, 'but it's to Tipperary ye're goin', where ye're to be
married to Misther Murphy this blessed day, so ye are, an' make no
throuble about it aither, or it'll be the worse for ye,' says he, lookin'
moighty black.

"Well, at first Nora thought her heart 'ud shtand still. 'Sure, Father
dear, ye don't mane it, ye cudn't be so cruel. It's like a blighted tree
I'd be, wid that man,' an' she thried to jump aff the car, but her father
held her wid a grip av stale.

"'Kape still,' says he wid his teeth closed like a vise. 'If ye crass me,
I'm like to murdher ye. It's me only escape from prison, for I'm in debt
an' Murphy 'ull help me,' says he. 'Sure,' says he, saftenin' a bit as he
seen the white face an' great pleadin' eyes, 'Sure ye'll be happy enough
wid Murphy. He loves ye, an' ye can love him, an' besides, think o' the
shape.'

"But Nora sat there, a poor dumb thing, wid her eyes lookin' deeper than
iver wid the misery that was in thim. An' from that minit, she didn't
spake a word, but all her sowl was detarmined that she'd die afore she'd
marry Murphy, but how she'd get out av it she didn't know at all, but
watched her chance to run.

"Now it happened that owld O'Moore, bein' disturbed in his mind, mistuk
the way, an' whin he come to the crass-roads, wan to Tipperary an' wan to
Cashel, he tuk the wan for the other, an' whin the horse thried to go home
to Tipperary, he wudn't let him, but pulled him into the Cashel road.
Faix, he might have knewn that if he'd let the baste alone, he'd take him
right, fur horses knows a dale more than ye'd think. That horse o' mine is
only a common garron av a baste, but he tuk me from Ballyvaughn to Lisdoon
Varna wan night whin it was so dark that ye cudn't find