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“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 all night by yourself?”

“The holy heavens forbid! Is it me stay here all night? No, your honor: I tether the boat at siven o’hlyock, and lave Brimstone Billy–God forgimme!–to take care of it t’ll mornin.”

“It will be stolen some night, I’m afraid.”

“Arra, who’d dar come next or near it, let alone stale it? Faith, I’d think twice before lookin at it meself in the dark. God bless your honor, an gran’che long life.”

I had given him sixpence. I went on to the reprobate’s grave and stood at the foot of it, looking at the sky, gorgeous with the descent of the sun. To my English eyes, accustomed to giant trees, broad lawns, and stately mansions, the landscape was wild and inhospitable. The ferryman was already tugging at the rope on his way back (I had told him that I did not intend to return that way), and presently I saw him make the painter fast to the south bank; put on his coat; and trudge homeward. I turned to the grave at my feet. Those who had interred Brimstone Billy, working hastily at an unlawful hour and in fear of molestation by the people, had hardly dug a grave. They had scooped out earth enough to hide their burden, and no more. A stray goat had kicked away the corner of the mound and exposed the coffin. It occurred to me, as I took some of the stones from the cairn, and heaped them to repair the breach, that had the miracle been the work of a body of men, they would have moved the one grave instead of the many. Even from a supernatural point of view, it seemed strange that the sinner should have banished the elect, when, by their superior numbers, they might so much more easily have banished him.

It was almost dark when I left the spot. After a walk of half a mile I recrossed the water by a bridge and returned to the farm house in which I lodged. Here, finding that I had enough of solitude, I only stayed to take a cup of tea. Then I went to Father Hickey’s cottage.

Kate was alone when I entered. She looked up quickly as I opened the door, and turned away disappointed when she recognized me.

“Be generous for once,” I said. “I have walked about aimlessly for hours in order to avoid spoiling the beautiful afternoon for you by my presence. When the sun was up I withdrew my shadow from your path. Now that darkness has fallen, shed some light on mine. May I stay half an hour?”

“You may stay as long as you like, of course. My uncle will soon be home. He is clever enough to talk to you.”

“What! More sarcasm! Come, Miss Hickey, help me to spend a pleasant evening. It will only cost you a smile. I am somewhat cast down. Four Mile Water is a paradise; but without you it would be lonely.”

“It must be very lonely for you. I wonder why you came here.”

“Because I heard that the women here were all Zerlinas, like you, and the men Masettos, like Mr. Phil–where are you going to?”