on to become like Father O'Rourke, for whom it must be
confessed, that at a very early age the boy had entertained a
considerable antipathy. Even with the widow, though she was ignorant
and superstitious, Father O'Rourke had never been a favourite; still
when she could get so far as the chapel, she went to hear mass, and
attended confession, as did her neighbours. The feeling which governed
her was fear, rather than love for the parish priest. Father O'Rourke
was excessively indignant at being thus addressed by the young
fisher-boy. He turned from him, however, to his mother, and began to
pour out his abuse on her head. He had not proceeded far, however, when
Dermot again sprang to his feet.

"Father O'Rourke!" he exclaimed; "you may say what you like to me; you
may curse me, and if you like you may threaten me with excommunication
even, but do not lift up your tongue against my poor old mother. There
are things a man can bear and some he ought not to bear, and I tell you,
boy as I am, I will not have her spoken against. Your words may
frighten her, and she may fancy that your curses may fall upon her head,
but I tell you when uttered against a poor helpless widow, they will
fall back on him who dares to speak them. There, Father O'Rourke, I
have had my say, and I defy you."

The priest had never before been spoken to in this manner by one of his
flock, and he found no words to reply. At first he felt inclined to
anathematise both the widow and her son, but doubts as to the effects it
might produce upon Dermot restrained him, or perhaps a better feeling
came into his heart.

"Very well, boy, remember I have warned you," he exclaimed, "I have told
you that by going to that Protestant minister, you may be led to turn
heretic, and forsake our holy faith, and if you should, do not forget
the heavy curses that will follow you. I do not wish you ill, nor do I
wish your mother ill, but I cannot stand by and see one of my flock
carried the downward way to destruction."

Having thus delivered himself, Father O'Rourke left the hut and took the
path up the steep glen, which led inland from the sea.

Often Dermot's mind reverted to the days when the castle was inhabited,
and he thought of the beautiful and kind ladies he had seen there, and
of the fair little girl who had smiled so sweetly when she spoke to him.
He felt the immeasurable distance between them and him, and yet he
longed for their return, that he might