"If
there was, I'd curse myself the first; for it's on me it had ought
to fall."
"Sorra a bit of that, thin, Teddy mavourneen; for iver an' always it
was yersilf that wor tinder an' careful uv her that's gone; an'
yersilf it wor that saved the life of her, the night she first come
home to us; an' it's none but good that iver yees did her in all the
days of yer life; an', if there's any blame to be had betwixt us,
it's on yer poor owld mother it should be laid,--her that loved the
purty darlint as if she'd been her own, an', if she's lost, will
carry a brucken heart to her grave wid mournin' afther her. O wurra,
wurra, acushla machree! Och the heavy day an' the black night that's
in it! Holy Jasus, have mercy on us! Spake the good word for us,
blissid Vargin! Saint Bridget (that's me own namesake), stip up an'
intersade for us now, if iver; for black is the nade we have uv
help."
Falling upon her knees, and pulling a rosary of wooden beads from
her bosom, the Irish woman pursued her petitions, mingling them with
tears and exclamations more or less pathetic and grotesque; while
Teddy, seated upon the Italian's empty box, his head between his
hands, his elbows upon his knees, his eyes fixed steadily upon the
floor, gave up his young heart a prey to such remorse as might fitly
punish even a heavier crime than that of which his conscience
accused him.
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