"
She sobbed for a minute, while Alice and Ellen looked on,
silent and pitying.
"An' to-night, my lady, he's very bad," she went on, wiping
away the tears that came quickly again — "an' I seed he was
going fast from me, an' I was breaking my heart wid the loss
of him, whin I heard one of the men that was in it say,
'What's this he's saying?' says he. 'An' what is it, thin?'
says I. 'About the gintleman that praiches at Carra,' says he
— 'he's a calling for him,' says he. I knowed there wasn't a
praist at all at Carra, an' I thought he was draiming, or out
o' his head, or crazy wid his sickness, like; an' I went up
close to him, an' says I, 'John,' says I, 'what is it you
want,' says I — 'an' sure, if it's anything in heaven above or
in earth beneath that yer own mother can get for ye,' says I,
'ye shall have it,' says I. An' he put up his two arms around
my neck, an' pulled my face down to his lips, that was hot wid
the faver, an' kissed me — he did — 'An',' says he, 'mother
dair,' says he — 'if ye love me,' says he, 'fetch me the good
gintleman that praiches at Carra, till I spake to him.' 'Is it
the praist you want, John, my boy?' says I — 'sure he's in
it,' says I'; for Michael had been for Father Shannon, an' he
had come home wid him half an hour before. 'Oh no, mother,'
says he, 'it's not him at all that I mane — it's the gintleman
that spakes in the little white church at Carra — he's not a
praist at all,' says he.
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