illage,
raising both hands, sir, up to the sun, and since that curse was
spoken, every year a roof has fallen in."

There was no doubt that the boy believed what he had told me; I could
see that he liked to believe the story, that it was natural and
sympathetic to him to believe in it; and for the moment I, too,
believed in a dancing girl becoming the evil spirit of a village that
would not accept her delight.

"He has sent away Life," I said to myself, "and now they are following
Life. It is Life they are seeking."

"It is said, your honour, that she's been seen in America, and I am
going there this autumn. You may be sure I will keep a look out for
her."

"But all this is twenty years ago. You will not know her. A woman
changes a good deal in twenty years."

"There will be no change in her, your honour. She has been with the
fairies. But, sir, we shall be just in time to see the clergy come out
of the cathedral after the consecration," he said, and he pointed to
the town.

It stood in the middle of a flat country, and as we approached it the
great wall of the cathedral rose above dirty and broken cottages, and
great masses of masonry extended from the cathedral into the town; and
these were the nunnery, its schools and laundry; altogether they seemed
like one great cloud.

When, I said, will a ray from the antique sun break forth and light up
this country again?

CHAPTER VII

A PLAYHOUSE IN THE WASTE

I had arranged to stay with Father MacTurnan till Monday, and I had
driven many miles along the road that straggles like a grey thread
through the brown bog. On either side there were bog-holes, and great
ruts in the road; the horse shied frequently, and once I was preparing
to leap from the car, but the driver assured me that the old horse
would not leave the road.

"Only once he was near leaving the road, and the wheel of the car must
have gone within an inch of the bog-hole. It was the day before
Christmas Day, and I was driving the doctor; he saw something, a small
white thing gliding along the road, and he was that scared that the
hair rose up and went through his cap."

I could not tell from the driver's face whether he was aware of his
extravagant speech. He seemed to have already forgotten what he had
said, and we drove on through the bog till the dismal distant mountains
and the cry of a plover forced me to speak again.

"All this parish, then," I said, "is Father MacTurnan's."

"Eve