adfully spasmodic were her efforts to be free.

The delay caused by those occasional workings of terror, at a moment
when Flanagan expected every sound to be the noise of pursuit, wrought
up his own bad passions to a furious height. His own companions could
actually hear him grinding his teeth with vexation and venom, whenever
anything on her part occurred to retard their flight. All this, however,
he kept to himself, owing to the singular command he possessed over his
passions. Nay, he undertook, once more, the task of reconciling her to
the agreeable prospect, as he termed it, that life presented her.

"We'll be as happy as the day's long," said he, "espichilly when
heaven sends us a family; an' upon my troth a purty mother you'll make?
suppose, darlin' love, you wondher how I got in to-night, but I tell
you I've my wits about me; you don't know that it was I encouraged Biddy
Nulty to go to live wid you, but I know what I was about then; Biddy it
was that left the door open for me, an' that tould me the room you lay
in, an' the place you keep your hard goold an' notes; I mintion these
things to show you how I have you hemmed in, and that your wisest way is
to submit without makin' a rout about it. You know that if you wor taken
from me this minit, there 'ud be a stain upon your name that 'ud never
lave it, an' it wouldn't be my business, you know, to clear up your
character, but the conthrary. As for Biddy, the poor fool, I did all in
my power to prevint her bein' fond o' me, but ever since we two lived
with the ould miser, somehow she couldn't."

For some time before he had proceeded thus far, there was felt, by
those who carried their fair charge, a slight working of her whole body,
especially of the arms, and in a moment Flanagan, who walked a little in
advance of her, with his head bent down, that he might not be put to the
necessity of speaking loud, suddenly received, right upon his nose, such
an incredible facer as made the blood spin a yard out of it.

"May all the curses of heaven an' hell blast you, for a cowardly,
thraicherous, parjured stag! Why, you black-hearted informer, see
now what you've made by your cunnin'. Well, we hope you'll keep your
word--won't I make a purty mother, an' won't we be happy as the day's
long, espichilly when Heaven sends us a family? Why, you rap of hell,
aren't you a laughing-stock this minute? An' to go to take my name
too--an' to leave the guilt of some other body's thraich