"Was that you, Patsy? I heard a voice somewhere."

The child shook his head in token of dissent.

"Ayeh! it was only the wind through the ould walls; but sure it might
be nat'ral enough for sighs and sobs to be here: there's many a one has
floated over this damp clay."

He resumed his work once more. The night was falling fast as Owen
stepped from the deep grave, and knelt down to say a prayer ere he
committed the body to the earth.

"Kneel down, darlin', here by my side," said he, placing his arm round
the little fellow's waist; "'tis the likes of you God loves best;"
and joining the tiny hands with his own, he uttered a deep and fervent
prayer for the soul of the departed. "There, father!" said he, as he
arose at last, and in a voice as if addressing a living person at his
side; "there, father: the Lord, he knows my heart inside me; and if
walking the world barefoot would give ye peace or ease, I'd do it, for
you were a kind man and a good father to me." He kissed the coffin as he
spoke, and stood silently gazing on it.

Arousing himself with a kind of struggle, he untied the cords, and
lifted the coffin from the cart. For some seconds he busied himself in
arranging the ropes beneath it, and then ceased suddenly, on remembering
that he could not lower it into the grave unassisted.

"I'll have to go down the road for some one," muttered he to himself;
but as he said this, he perceived at some distance off in the churchyard
the figure of a man, as if kneeling over a grave. "The Lord help him, he
has his grief too!" ejaculated Owen, as he moved towards him. On coming
nearer he perceived that the grave was newly made, and from its size
evidently that of a child.

"I ax your pardon," said Owen, in a timid voice, after waiting for
several minutes in the vain expectation that the man would look up; "I
ax your pardon for disturbing you, but maybe you'll be kind enough to
help me to lay this coffin in the ground. I have nobody with me but a
child."

The man started and looked round. Their eyes met; it was Phil Joyce and
Owen who now confronted each other. But how unlike were both to what
they were at their last parting! Then, vindictive passion, outraged
pride, and vengeance, swelled every feature and tingled in every fibre
of their frames. Now, each stood pale, care-worn, and dispirited,
wearied out by sorrow, and almost brokenhearted. Owen was the first to
speak.

"I axed your pardon before I saw you, Phil Joyce