And here go I out through the gate like a
Christian. Good afternoon, Mr. Langan. I am going because Miss Hickey
has something to say to you about me which she would rather not say in
my presence. You will excuse me?"

"Oh, I'll excuse you," he said boorishly. I smiled, and went out.
Before I was out of hearing, Kate whispered vehemently to him, "I hate
that fellow."

I smiled again; but I had scarcely done so when my spirits fell. I
walked hastily away with a coarse threatening sound in my ears like
that of the clarionets whose sustained low notes darken the woodland
in "Der Frieschutz." I found myself presently at the graveyard. It was
a barren place, enclosed by a mud wall with a gate to admit funerals,
and numerous gaps to admit peasantry, who made short cuts across it as
they went to and fro between Four Mile Water and the market town. The
graves were mounds overgrown with grass: there was no keeper; nor were
there flowers, railings, or any other conventionalities that make an
English graveyard repulsive. A great thornbush, near what was called
the grave of the holy sisters, was covered with scraps of cloth and
flannel, attached by peasant women who had prayed before it. There
were three kneeling there as I enterd; for the reputation of the place
had been revived of late by the miracle; and a ferry had been
established close by, to conduct visitors over the route taken by the
graveyard. From where I stood I could see on the opposite bank the
heap of stones, perceptibly increased since my last visit, marking the
deserted grave of Brimstone Billy. I strained my eyes broodingly at it
for some minutes, and then descended the river bank and entered the
boat.

"Good evenin t'your honor," said the ferryman, and set to work to draw
the boat over hand by a rope stretched across the water.

"Good evening. Is your business beginning to fall off yet?"

"Faith, it never was as good as it might a been. The people that comes
from the south side can see Billy's grave--Lord have mercy on
him!--across the wather; and they think bad of payin a penny to put a
stone over him. It's them that lives towrst Dublin that makes the
journey. Your honor is the third I've brought from the south to north
this blessed day."

"When do most people come? In the afternoon, I suppose?"

"All hours, sur, except afther dusk. There isn't a sowl in the
counthry ud come within sight of the grave wanst the sun goes down."

"And you! do you stay here