The Lake

itual impulse it had awakened in him was exhausted, or if the con

n Derrinrush and the plantations, and from there he could watch the sunset. But the sunset would soon be over, and he would have to return home, for a long evening without a book. Terrible! And he began to feel that he must have an occupation-his book! To write the story of the island castles would pass the time, and wondering how he might write it, whether from oral tradition or from the books and manuscripts which he might find in national libraries, he went out about 3 o'clock and wandered down the old cart-track, getting his feet very wet, till he came to the pine-wood, into which he went, and stood looking across the lake, wondering if he should go out to Castle Island in a boat-there was no boat, but he might borro

walked in a vague diffused light, inexpressibly sad to find Moran waiting for him at the end of an old cart-tra

u, Gogarty; I don't

You'll stay and have

once and have done with it. I've felt the craving coming on me for the last few days-you know what I mean-and now it's g

t are yo

and, Gogarty-no one can; I can't myself. But it doe

supper together. It

and the priests walked

o use talking; I'm

im by the arm. 'Come in. I'm a big

,' Father Mor

and when they were in the parlour, a

e that, and Catherine

; but before we part I'd like to hear you say that I haven't been wanting in my du

no better man, and I'll not

me hear you say again that I've been a

and the priests

to come back soon after with the cloth. And while she laid it the priests sat looking at each other, not daring to speak, hoping that Catherine did not suspect from their silence and manner that

down and eat a

e me again. Just a glass to keep me going, and I will go straight out of your parish, so that none of the disgrace will fall

ld put you up here an

dn't been for whisky I should have been in a mad-house long ago. Now, just tell me if you'll give me drink.

ad something to eat. It will pass from

ought passing across your mind. We all suffer, you like another, and when the ache becomes too great to be borne we drink. Whisky is the remedy; there's none better. We drink and forget, and that is the great thing. There are times, Gogarty, when one doe

he got up fr

won't hear you s

'm done for;' and Father O

your will, but I'll go a

you didn't c

ay his unhappy curate would choose for escape. 'Now why does he take the southern road?' And a moment after he guessed that Moran was making for Michael Garvey's public-house, 'and after drink

after mile through th

ty; go back. Regan's public-ho

side of the boundary; and you said, Moran, that

now what might be the end of this adventure. He could see there

you be makin

ten o'cl

ill the stroke of twelve ...

in bed by twelve. Wh

is time he was walking very fast; and when they got as far as Regan's public-hou

not to disgrac

lking your heart is set upon, you

ather Oliver, who wouldn't be out-walked, kept pace with h

t to the top of the hill. For the sea lay beyond the hill. The road bent round a shoulder of the hill, and when Father Oliver s

aved me,

egan talking hurriedly, telling Father Oliver how he had committed himself to t

is out of it; your prayer has been answered. But

ng for you. I prayed as long as I had breath; one can't p

ned back, walki

nd I think I'd like a drink, and a drink of water will do me first-rate. Now look here,

would do as well if they leant over the l

gh a terrible time, Gogarty. It's all lifted from me now.

ng as the temptation has passed fr

ved in the miracle, and, thanking God for this act of grac

elieve that a miracle has happened.

rasped Father

ed I

up the gravel path, saying to himself, 'A miracle, without doubt. Moran called it a miracle and it seems like one, but will it last? Moran believes himself cured, that

ighted he threw himself into his armchair so that he might ponder better on what had happened. 'I've been a good friend to him, and it's a great support to a man to think that he's been a good friend to another, that he kept hi

these words till she had spoken with Mr. Walter Poole.' The name brought a tightening about his heart, and when Father Oliver stumbled to his feet-he had walked many miles, and was tired-he began to think he must tell Nora of the miracle that had happened about a mile-he thought it was just a mile-beyond Patsy Regan's public-house. The miracle would impres

e must go away with Moran to some public-house far away and drink. Hadn't Moran said that there were times when we all wanted drink? He tried to collect his thoughts.... Something had gone wrong, but he couldn't remember what had gone wrong or where he was. It seemed to him that somebody had lost her soul. He must seek it. It was his duty. Being a p

e was seeking in the wood; so he was drawn from glade to glade through the underwoods, and through places so thickly overgrown that it seemed impossible to pass through. And then the thorn-bushes gave way before him, for he was no longer alone. She had descended from the trees into his ar

d to forbid him to recognize her under penalty of loss. His desire overcame him, and he put out his hand to lift the veil. As he did so his eyes opened, he saw the wet wood, the shining

ith briars, by the great oak-tree where the leaves were falling. And wandering they went, smiling gently on each other, till she began to tell him that he must

in his ears. Not her words, surely, for there was a roughness in the voice, and presently he heard somebody asking him why he was abo

death at this hour of t

t-cut he had come through the wood. And Father Oliver listened, thinking a

own door, and the door is open. When

st didn'

reverence; and you'll be lucky i