"
"Glory be to God! that she has that much sinse, any way," exclaimed her
husband. "Father, ahagur, I trust my vow was heard."
"Well, my dear--listen to me," continued the priest--"can you not make
the best confession possible? Could you calm yourself for it?"
"Pether, avick machree--Pether,"--
"Ellish, avourneen, I'm here!--my darlin', I am your vick machree, an'
ever was. Oh, Father! my heart's brakin'! I can't bear to part wid her.
Father of heaven, pity us this day of throuble?"
"Be near me, Pether; stay wid me--I'm very lonely. Is this you keepin'
my head up?"
"It is, it is! I'll never lave you till--till"--
"Is the carman come from Dublin wid--wid the broadcloth?"
"Father of heaven! she's gone back again!" exclaimed the husband.
"Father, jewel! have you no prayers that you'd read for her? You wor
ordained for these things, an' comin' from you, they'll have more
stringth. Can you do nothin' to save my darlin'?"
"My prayers will not be wanting," said the priest: "but I am watching
for an interval of sufficient calmness to hear her confession; and I
very much fear that she will pass in darkness. At all events, I will
anoint her by and by. In the meantime, we must persevere a little
longer; she may become easier, for it often happens that reason gets
clear immediately before death.
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