hleen, an' come to the saint's bed an' teched him an the shouldher.
The blessed saint was layin' there belike dhraming o' Kathleen, fur sure,
there was no harm in that, an' when he woke up an' seen her settin' be his
side, he thought the eyes 'ud lave him.

"'Kathleen,' says he, 'is it yoursilf that's in it, an' me thinkin' I'd
parted from you forever?'

"'It is,' says the ould desaver, 'an' no other, Kevin darlint, an' I've
come to shtay wid ye.'

"'Sure darlint,' says the saint, 'ye know how it bruk me heart entirely to
lave ye, no more wud I have done it, but be the will o' God. Ye know I
loved ye, an' God forgive me, I'm afeared I love ye still, but it isn't
right, Kathleen. Go in pace, in the name o' God, an' lave me,' says he.

"'No Kevin,' says Satan, a-throwin' himself on Kevin's breast, wid both
arrums round his neck, 'I'll never lave ye,' lettin' an to cry an' dhrop
tears an the face o' the blessed saint.

"It's no aisy matther to say no to a woman anyhow, aven to an ugly woman,
but when it's a good-lookin' wan that's in it, an' she axin' ye wid her
arrums round ye an' the crystal dhrops like that many dimunds fallin' from
her eyes that look at ye like shtars through a shower av rain, begob it's
meself that doesn't undhershtand why Saint Kevin didn't give up at wanst,
an' so he wud if he hadn't been the blessed saint that he was. But he was
mightily flusthered, an' no wondher, an' stud there wid his breast
hayvin', a-shtrivin' to resist the timptation to thrade a crown in heaven
fur a love on airth.

"'Lave this place, Kevin,' says the tempther, 'an' come wid me, we'll go
away an' be happy together forever,' an' wid that word, an' as the fate av
the saint was trimblin' in the balances, the holy angels o' God stud
beside him, an' wan whishpered in his ear that the Kathleen he loved
before was a pure, good woman, an' that she'd 'a' died afore she'd come to
him that-a-way.

"'No,' says he, wid sudden shtrength. 'It's not Kathleen that's in it, but
an avil sper't. God's prisence be about us! Get you gone Satan an' sayce
to throuble me,' an' that minnit the blessed saint jumped up aff the
ground an' wid his two feet gev the owld rayprobate a thunderin' kick in
the stummick, an' when he doubled up wid the pain an' fell back an'
clapped his hands together on the front av him, Saint Kevin gev him
another in his rare, axin' yer pardon, that sent him clane over the clift,
wid Saint Kevin gatherin' shtones an' fli