ile writing will look
forward to the day when I shall send you a copy of the work, if God
gives me strength and patience to complete it. Little is ever completed
in Ireland.... But I mustn't begin to doubt before I begin the work, and
while you and Mr. Poole are studying dry texts, trying to prove that the
things that men have believed and loved for centuries are false, I shall
be engaged in writing a sympathetic history--the history of natural
things and natural love.

'Very sincerely yours,

'OLIVER GOGARTY.'

_From Miss Nora Glynn to Father Oliver Gogarty._

'ANTWERP,

'_September_ 3, 19--.

'DEAR FATHER GOGARTY,

'You are a very human person after all, and it was very kind of you to
think about my baby and kind of you to write to me about her. My baby is
a little girl, and she has reddish hair like mine, and if ever you see
her I think you will see me in her. The address of the woman who is
looking after her is Mrs. Cust, 25, Henry Street, Guildford. Do go to
see her and write me a long letter, telling me what you think of her. I
am sure a trip to London will do you a great deal of good. Pack up your
portmanteau, Father Gogarty, and go to London at once. Promise me that
you will, and write to me about your impressions of London and Father
O'Grady, and when you are tired of London come abroad. We are going on
to Munich, that is all I know, but I will write again.

'Very sincerely yours,

'NORA GLYNN.'

Father Oliver sat wondering, and then, waking up suddenly, he went about
his business, asking himself if she really meant all she said, for why
should she wish him to go abroad, for his health or in the hope of
meeting him--where? In Munich!

'A riddle, a riddle, which'--he reflected a moment--'which my experience
of life is not sufficient to solve.'

On his way to Derrinrush he was met by a man hurrying towards him. 'Sure
it is I that am in luck this day, meeting your reverence on the road,
for we shall be spared half a mile if you have the sacred elements about
you.' So much the peasant blurted out between the gasps, and when his
breath came easier the priest learnt that Catherine, the man's wife, was
dying. 'Me brother's run for the doctor, but I, being the speedier, came
for yourself, and if your reverence has the sacred elements about you,
we'll go along together by a short cut over the hill.' 'I'm afraid I
have not got the oil and there's nothing for it but to go back to the
house.' 'Then I'm