ted."

At that moment sounds of voices were heard.

"Listen to them, Uncle John." And the curate took the glass from Father
John. "They are not as far as I thought, they are sitting under these
trees. Come," he said.

They walked some twenty yards, till they reached a spot where the light
came pouring through the young leaves, and all the brown leaves of last
year were spotted with light. There were light shadows amid the rocks
and pleasant mosses, and the sounds of leaves and water, and from the
top of a rock Kate listened while Peter told her they would rebuild his
house.

"The priests are after us," she said.

And she gave a low whistle, and the men and boys looked round, and
seeing the priests coming, they dispersed, taking several paths, and
none but Ned and Mary were left behind. Ned was dozing, Mary was
sitting beside him fanning herself with her hat; they had not heard
Kate's whistle, and they did not see the priests until they were by
them.

"Now, Tom, don't lose your head, be quiet with them."

"Will you speak to them, or shall I?" said Father Tom.

In the excitement of the moment he forgot his own imperfections and
desired to admonish them.

"I think you had better let me speak to them," said Father John. "You
are Ned Kavanagh," he said, "and you are Mary Byrne, I believe. Now, I
don't know you all, for I am getting an old man, and I don't often come
up this way. But notwithstanding my age, and the heat of the day, I
have come up, for I have heard that you have not acted as good
Catholics should. I don't doubt for a moment that you intended to get
married, but you have, I fear, been guilty of a great sin, and you've
set a bad example."

"We were on our way to your reverence now," said Mary. "I mean to his
reverence."

"Well," said Father Tom, "you are certainly taking your time over it,
lying here half asleep under the trees."

"We hadn't the money," said Mary, "it wasn't our fault."

"Didn't I say I'd marry you for nothing?"

"But sure, your reverence, that's only a way of speaking."

"There's no use lingering here," said Father Tom. "Ned, you took the
pledge the day before yesterday, and yesterday you were tipsy."

"I may have had a drop of drink in me, your reverence. Pat Connex
passed me the mug of porter and I forgot myself."

"And once," said the priest, "you tasted the porter you thought you
could go on taking it."

Ned did not answer, and the priests whispered together.

"We