"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 câr, 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 yer nose, an’ wint be the rath in a gallop, like he’d seen the good people. But niver mind, I’ll tell ye the shtory some time, only I was thinkin’ O’Moore might have knewn betther.