matters little
Such was the character which this woman bore; whether unjustly or not,
matters little. For the present it is sufficient to say, that after
having passed on, leaving Lamh Laudher to proceed in the direction he
had originally intended, she bent her steps towards the head inn of the
town. Her presence here produced some cautious and timid mirth of which
they took care she should not be cognizant. The servants greeted her
with an outward show of cordiality, which the unhappy creature easily
distinguished from the warm kindness evinced to vagrants whose history
had not been connected with evil suspicion and mystery. She accordingly
tempered her manner and deportment towards them with consummate skill.
Her replies to their inquiries for news were given with an appearance
of good humor; but beneath the familiarity of her dialogue there lay an
ambiguous meaning and a cutting sarcasm, both of which were tinged with
a prophetic spirit, capable, from its equivocal drift, of being applied
to each individual whom she addressed. Owing to her unsettled life, and
her habit of passing from place to place, she was well acquainted with
local history. There lived scarcely a family within a very wide circle
about her, of whom she did not know every thing that could possibly be
known; a fact of which she judiciously availed herself by allusions
in general conversations that were understood only by those whom they
concerned. These mysterious hints, oracularly thrown out, gained her the
reputation of knowing more than mere human agency could acquire, and of
course she was openly conciliated and secretly hated.
