go for
two reasons, viz., (1) that, fresh from the conflict, they could give a
more lurid description of their adventure, and obtain larger
compensation; and (2) that whilst Jem Deady was scraping, with no gentle
hand, the oil and lampblack from their faces, that he had placed there
the evening before, he told them, confidentially, to put a hundred miles
between themselves and the villagers that night, if they did not care to
leave their measures for a coffin. And so, at six o'clock a car was
hired, and amidst a farewell volley of sarcastic cheers and
uncomplimentary epithets, they drove to catch the night-mail to Dublin.
Father Letheby promptly took possession, and found nothing wrong, except
the odor of some stale tobacco smoke.

* * * * *

Next day was All Souls', and it was with whitened lips, and with
disappointment writ in every one of his fine features, that he came up
after Mass to ask had I received any letter. Alas, no! He had pinned
his faith, in his own generous, child-like way, to Alice's prophecy, and
the Holy Souls had failed him. I went down to see Alice. She looked at
me inquiringly.

"No letter, and no reprieve," I said. "You false prophetess, you child
of Mahomet, what did you mean by deceiving us?"

She was crying softly.

"Nevertheless," she said at length, "it will come true. The Holy Souls
will never fail him. The day is not past, nor the morrow."

Oh, woman, great is thy faith!

Yet it was a melancholy day, a day of conjecture and fear, a day of sad
misgivings and sadder forebodings; and all through the weary hours the
poor priest wore more than ever the aspect of a hunted fugitive.

Next morning the cloud lifted at last. He rushed up to my house, before
he had touched his breakfast, and, fluttering one letter in the air, he
proffered the other.

"There's the bishop's seal," he cried. "I was afraid to open it. Will
you do it for me?"

I did, cutting the edges open with all reverence, as became the purple
seal, and then I read:--

Bishop's House, All Souls' Day, 187--.

I nodded my head. Alice was right.

My dear Father Letheby:--

"What?" he cried, jumping up, and coming behind my chair to read over my
shoulder.

I have just appointed Father Feely to the pastoral charge of
Athlacca, vacated by the death of Canon Jones; and I hereby appoint
you to the administratorship of my cathedral and mensal priest
here. In doing