from the girl
he loved, he imagined himself walking with her hand-in-hand in some
fair place far from strife and the oppression which engendered strife.
A feeling of fierce anger succeeded his day dream. The sun shone around
him, the fields were fair to see. Life ought to be like the sun and
the fields--simple and good and beautiful. Instead it was difficult and
cruel. He was being dragged into a vortex of hate and battle. He loathed
the very thought of it. He wanted peace and love. And yet, what escape
was there for him? Did he even want to escape if he could? The wrong
and tyranny he was to resist were real, insistent, horrible. He would
be less than a man, unworthy of the love and peace he longed for, if he
failed to do his part in the struggle for freedom and right.

At midday he reached Templepatrick village, and found the inn occupied
by a company of yeomen. He sought the house of the weaver with whom he
had dined, in company with James Hope, on his way to Belfast. The
door was closed, which struck Neal as strange, for the day was hot and
bright. Coming near, he was surprised not to hear the rattle of the
loom. Birnie was a diligent man; it was not like him to leave his loom
idle. And the house was not empty; he could hear a woman's voice within.
He tapped at the door, intending to ask for a meal and for leave to rest
awhile in the kitchen. There was no answer, and yet he heard the woman
still speaking in low, even tones. He tapped again, and then, despairing
of attracting attention, raised the latch, half opened the door, and
looked in.

In the centre of the room, before the table, a young woman knelt
motionless, her hands stretched out before her. Neal heard her words
distinctly. She was praying aloud, steadily, quietly, but with intense
earnestness, repeating petition after petition for her husband's safety.
Very softly Neal withdrew, and closed the door. He might go dinner-less,
but he would not interrupt the woman's prayer. He turned, to find a
little girl gazing at him. He recognised her as the Birnies' child.

"Were you wanting my da?"

"Yes, little girl, but I see he's gone away."

"Ay, but if any stranger come for him I was to tell my mammy."

"Never mind," said Neal, "you mustn't disturb her now."

"Will I no, then, when I was bid? Mammy I Mammy!"

In answer to the child's cry, the mother opened the door.

"What ails you, Jinny? I beg pardon, sir, were you waiting long on me?"

"You don't kno