Oh God! Strip his breast there, an' see if there's a blood-mark on the left side." "I'm beginnin' to fear something dreadful," said the criminal, trembling, and getting as pale as death; "there is--there is a blood-mark on the very spot she mentions--see here." "I would know him to be Andy Hart's son, God rest him!" observed Lamh Laudher More, "any where over the world.

Blessed mother of heaven!--down on your knees, you miserable crature, down on your knees for her pardon! You've murdhered your unfortunate mother!" The man gave one loud and fearful yell, and dashed himself on the floor at his mother's feet, an appalling picture of remorse.

The scene, indeed, was a terrible one.

He rolled himself about, tore his hair, and displayed every symptom of a man in a paroxysm of madness.

But among those present, with the exception of the mother and son, there was not such a picture of distress and sorrow, as the wife of the Dead Boxer.
She stooped down to raise the stranger up; "Unhappy man," said she, "look up, I am your sister!" "No," said Nell, "no--no--no.