wilight, when he might be seen gliding amidst the coming
darkness, like a dissatisfied spirit. His life was an austere one,
and his devotional practices were said to be of the most remorseful
character. Such a man, in fact, was calculated to hold a powerful sway
over the prejudices and superstitions of the people. This was true. His
power was considered almost unlimited, and his life one that would not
disgrace the highest saint in the calendar. There were not wanting some
persons in the parish who hinted that Father Felix O'Rourke, the parish
priest, was himself rather reluctant to incur the displeasure, or
challenge the power, of the _Lianhan Shee_, by, driving its victim
out of the parish. The opinion of these persons was, in its distinct
unvarnished reality, that Father Felix absolutely showed the white
feather on this critical occasion--that he became shy, and begged
leave to decline being introduced to this intractable pair--seeming to
intimate that he did not at all relish adding them to the stock of his
acquaintances.

Father Philip they considered as a decided contrast to him on this
point. His stern and severe manner, rugged, and, when occasion demanded,
daring, they believed suitable to the qualities requisite for sustaining
such an interview. They accordingly waited, on him; and after Bartley
and his friends had given as faithful a report of the circumstances as,
considering all things, could be expected, he told Bartley he would hear
from Mrs. Sullivan's own lips the authentic narrative. This was quite
satisfactory, and what was expected from him. As for himself, he
appeared to take no particular interest in the matter, further than that
of allaying the ferment and alarm which had spread through the parish.
"Plase your Reverence," said Bartley, "she came in to Mary, and she
alone in the house, and for the matther o' that, I believe she laid
hands upon her, and tossed and tumbled the crathur, and she but a sickly
woman, through the four corners of the house. Not that Mary lets an so
much, for she's afeard; but I know from her way, when she spakes about
her, that it's thruth, your Reverence."

"But didn't the _Lianhan Shee_," said one of them, "put a sharp-pointed
knife to her breast, wid a divilish intintion of makin' her give the
best of aitin' an' dhrinkin' the house afforded?"

"She got the victuals, to a sartinty," replied Bartley, "and 'overlooked'
my woman for her pains; for she's not the picture of