ere the
Davorens get their wather from. O, thin, bedad, but Grace Davoren is a
beauty all out; and maybe 'tis herself doesn't know it."

"Go on with your story," said Woodward, rather dryly; "proceed."

"Well, sir, there is Bet Harramount's face for you, and the rest of her
figure wasn't sich as to disgrace it. She was half bent wid age, wore
an ould black bonnet, an ould red cloak, and walked wid a staff that was
bent at the top, as it seems every witch must do. Where she came from
nobody could ever tell, for she was a black stranger in this part of the
country. At all events, she lived in the town below, but how she lived
nobody could tell either. Everything about her was a riddle; no wondher,
considherin' she hardly was ever known to spake to any one, from the
lark to the lamb. At length she began to be subjected by many sensible
people to be something not right; which you know, sir, was only natural.
Peter O'Figgins, that was cracked--but then it was only wid dhrink and
larnin'--said it; and Katty McTrollop, Lord Bilberry's henwife, was of
the same opinion, and from them and others the thing grew and spread
until it became right well known that she was nothin' else than a witch,
and that the big wart on her neck was nothin' more nor less than the
mark the devil had set upon her, to suckle his babies by. From this out,
them that had Christian hearts and loved their religion trated the thief
as she desarved to be trated. She was hissed and hooted, thank God,
wherever she showed her face; but still nobody had courage to lay a hand
upon her by rason of her blasphaimin' and cursin', which, they say, used
to make the hair stand like wattles upon the heads of them that heard
her."

"Had she not a black cat?" asked Woodward; "surely, she ought to have had
a familiar."

"No," replied Barney; "the cat she had was a white cat, and the mainin'
of its color will appear to you by and by; at any rate, out came the
truth. You have heard of the Black Spectre--the _Shan-dhinne-dhuv?_"

"I have," replied the other; "proceed."

"Well, sir, as I said, the truth came out at last; in the coorse of
a short time she was watched at night, and seen goin' to the haunted
house, where the Spectre lives."

"Did she walk there, or fly upon her broomstick?" asked Woodward,
gravely.

"I believe she walked, sir," replied Barney; "but afther that every eye
was upon her, and many a time she was seen goin' to the haunted house
when she thought