wever, the breast of Nell M'Collum received the stab
that was designed for another.

A short violent shriek followed, as she staggered back and fell.

"Staunch the blood," she exclaimed, "staunch the blood, an' there may be
a chance of life yet."

The man threw the dagger down, and was in the act of rushing out, when
the door opened, and a posse of constables entered the house. Nell's
face became at once ghastly and horror-stricken, for she found that the
blood could not be staunched, and that, in fact, eternity was about to
open upon her.

"Secure him!" said Nell, pointing to her murderer, "secure him, an' send
quick for Lamh Laudher More. God's hand is in what has happened! Ay,
I raised the blow for him, an' God has sent it to my own heart. Send,
too," she added, "for the Dead Boxer's wife, an' if you expect heaven,
be quick."

On receiving Nell's message the old man, his son, wife, and one or two
other friends, immediately hurried to the scene of death, where they
arrived a few minutes after the Dead Boxer's wife.

Nell lay in dreadful agony; her face was now a bluish yellow, her
eye-brows were bent, and her eyes getting dead and vacant.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "Andy Hart! Andy Hart! it was the black hour you
brought me from the right way. I was innocent till I met you, an' well
thought of; but what was I ever since? an' what am I now?"

"You never met me," said the red-haired stranger, "till within the last
fortnight."

"What do you mean, you unfortunate man?" asked Rody.

"Andy Hart is my name," said the man, "although I didn't go by it for
some years."

"Andy Hart!" said Nell, raising herself with a violent jerk, and
screaming, "Andy Hart! Andy Hart! stand over before me. Andy Hart! It is
his father's voice. 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 him