What connection this had with the man's desire to get hold of the child
I had yet to learn; but I meant to learn it without another hour's
delay, so I set off for the cottage on the curragh.
It was growing dark, and not being sure of my way through the
ever-changing bypaths of the bog land, I called on Father Dan to guide
me. The old priest seemed to know my errand (the matter my darling had
communicated as a secret being common knowledge), and at first he looked
afraid.
"Well . . . yes, yes . . . why shouldn't I?" he said, and then, "Yes, I
will, I will"--with the air of a man who had made up his mind to a
daring enterprise.
Our curragh is a stretch of wild marsh lying over against the sea,
undrained, only partly cultivated, half covered with sedge and sallow
bushes, and consequently liable to heavy mists. There was a mist over it
that night, and hence it was not easy even for Father Dan (accustomed to
midnight visits to curragh cottages) to find the house which had once
been the home of "Neale the Lord.
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