“Yes, lad. And now, ye omadhaun, go to sleep, and say good-night; we must be going.”
“Which shall I do first, Father Denny?”
“Faith, he’s caught me again! Wait till I get the sassenach into the annals of Tagernach, the hagiographer; I’ll give him enough of the Irish idiom to make him more respectful.”
The light was out, and the small, brave voice bidding them good-night from the dark room. They groped down stairs, and tore away from the garrulity of Mother Geehan.
Again the priest steered them through the dim ways, but this time in another direction. He was serenely silent, and Lorison followed his example to the extent of seldom speaking, Serene he could not be. His heart beat suffocatingly in his breast. The following of the blind, menacing trail was pregnant with he knew not what humiliating revelation to be delivered at its end.
