ing been wrong in his last surmises, would have thrown
stronger doubts on those he now entertained. Father John too was
always quizzing him, and Denis did not like to be quizzed. After much
consideration, McGovery resolved to go to Father Cullen, and disclose
his secret to him; Father Cullen was a modest, steady man, who would
neither make light of, or ridicule what he heard; and if after that
Keegan was drowned in a bog-hole, it would be entirely off Denis's
conscience.

When Father John met the pair, they had just been discussing the
subject; Cullen was far from making light of it; for, in the first
place, he believed every word McGovery told him, and in the next, he
was shocked, and greatly grieved, that one of his own parishioners,
and one also of the most respectable of them, should be concerned
in such a business: he felt towards Keegan all the abhorrence which
a very bigoted and ignorant Roman Catholic could feel towards a
Protestant convert, but he would have done anything to prevent his
meeting his death by the hands, or with the connivance, of Thady
Macdermot.

As soon as Cullen had heard McGovery's statement--which, by the by,
had been made without any reference to his previous statement to
Father John, or his warning to Captain Ussher--he determined to tell
it all to the parish priest, and to take McGovery with him. This plan
did not, however, suit Denis at all, and he used all his eloquence
to persuade Father Cullen, that if he told Mr. McGrath at all, he,
Denis, had better not make one of the party; and he was at the moment
considering what excuse he could give for refusing to go into the
priest's cottage, when they met Father John on the road coming into
Drumsna.

Denis was greatly disconcerted,--but Cullen, full of his news, and as
eager to communicate it as if it had been arranged definitely that
Keegan was to be put into the bog-hole at noon precisely, was very
glad to see him, and instantly opened his budget.

"I'm very glad to meet you this morning, Mr. McGrath," he began, "and
it's well since you're out so early, that it's not the other way you
went,--for I'd been greatly bothered if I hadn't found you."

"But here I am, you see,--and if it was only after me you were going,
I suppose you can turn, for I'm going to Drumsna."

"Oh to be sure I can; don't you be going, Denis McGovery." Denis had
taken off his hat, and muttering something about his wife, and "good
morning, yer riverence," was de