to get those heavenly
feelings, I'll jist follow the road ye have taken. I've plenty o'
time, as ye know."

"Do ye mean, will I teach you to read?"

"Yes."

"I'll speak to Miss Annie about it. Hurry home as fast as you can.
Good-night, and God bless you."

With an affectionate kiss they parted; and Annorah went slowly back to
her young mistress's room.

"How is this, Annorah?" asked Mrs. Lee, as she entered. "How happened
you to return so soon?"

"I have not been home, an' ye please, ma'am."

"Are you not going to-night?" asked Annie, raising her head from her
pillow, and noticing, with a little anxiety, the unusual expression
of her attendant's face.

"It's Phelim, my brother, miss, has been here, and it's a house full
o' company there is at home."

"And they want you to spend the holy Sabbath to-morrow in visiting
them, I suppose."

"No, Miss Annie."

"What then?" asked Mrs. Lee, after a moment's silence.

"Nothing to speak of, ma'am. Leastways nothing to trouble ye about."

"But I can see that it is something that troubles you, Norah," said
Annie, taking the rough hand of Annorah in hers, and drawing her
nearer. "Is it something that you would rather I should not know?"

"Indeed no. But it's loath I am to add my bit troubles to yours, when
ye suffer yer own so patiently. It's only that all my relatives, and
the praste, and the Catholic neighbours, are waiting for me to come
home, to bring me back to the ould Church by force. An' Phelim, poor
boy, came to tell me to keep away. It's worse he'll be for the damp
air; and it's angry they'll be for my staying away."

"Ah! Annorah, my dear nurse, I was afraid that rougher times awaited
you. I was afraid they would persecute you."

"But they haven't yet, Miss Annie."

"Perhaps it is not what you would call persecution, but it is sad to
have those we love turn against us. You must trust in God, my poor
girl. He will give you grace to bear it all."

CHAPTER VI.

THE CONFESSIONAL--AN IRISH FROLIC.

Great was the uproar in Biddy Dillon's cottage when it was found that
Annorah was not coming to make her usual Saturday evening visit to her
mother.

Preparations had been made by Father M'Clane for holding a regular
confessional; and an hour before sunset, he had taken his seat in the
little darkened chamber, behind a table on which four tallow-candles
were burning, with an uncertain, flickering light.

It had been decided in the council of re