An' again, how are we at home?
Brought low down, down to a mud cabin! Now, Dick o' the Grange, an' now, Darby Skinadre--now for revenge.

The time is come.

I'll take my place at the head of them, and what's to be done, must be done.

Margaret Murtagh, you're lying dead before me, and by the broken heart you died of--" He could add no more; but with these words, tottering and frantic, he rushed out of the miser's house.
"Wid the help o' God, the young savage is as mad as a March hare," observed Skinadre, coolly; "but, as it's all over wid the unfortunate crature, I don't see why an honest man should lose his own, at any rate." Whilst uttering these words, he seized the meal, and deliberately emptied it back into the chest from which young Dalton had taken it..