“An’ if she spake ill o’ the praste and the holy Church, how then, Annorah?” asked Mrs. Dillon, eying her daughter rather curiously.
“Blessed little good can we say o’ Father M‘Clane, whin we spake truth, as ye know, mother dear; and it’s not to be expected o’ her to tell lies for his sake.”
“Does she spake o’ the Catholic Church Norah?” asked her mother.
“Never at all, mother; so make yer heart aisy. She spakes to me o’ meself, and the wickedness in me heart; and when she leans so lovingly on me shoulder, and raises her clear eyes to the blue sky, or watches the bright sunset, and spakes so softly to me o’ the beauty o’ a holy life, I feel all the betther and patienter meself for hearing the good words. She says, mother dear, as how it is depravity that makes me so often angered and wrong; and how that Jesus Christ, the Son o’ God himself, died to save us and cure us o’ our sin. It would do yer own heart good, could ye hear her; and there’s nought wrong in it at all, ye see.”
Annie’s influence grew stronger and stronger, and not a day passed without some precious truth from her lips finding a place in the heart of her attendant. It was many weeks before Annorah yielded to her persuasions, and commenced learning to read. The pleasant summer days had come, and they were often abroad in the fresh air together, Annie in her low carriage, which was easily drawn by her young nurse.
Down in the valley behind Mr. Lee’s house there was an old mill, long since deserted and unused.
This was a favourite resort of Annie’s, and it was here that she taught Annorah to read, during the long summer afternoons.
At first Annorah was listless, indifferent, and often suspicious that all this attention to her education boded no good to her old religious prejudices. But she could deny Annie nothing; and after a time, as her confidence in the piety of her gentle teacher increased, she began to feel a deep interest in the truths taught.
In her anxiety to please her invalid charge, she made rapid progress in reading, and before the end of the summer could write a few plain sentences. She began to love knowledge for its own sake; and many a pleasant hour did she spend, when Annie was asleep or weary, in reading the easy lessons selected for her. But she was careful that neither her mother nor the priest should suspect her progress in learning, and as she still went regularly to “confession,” it was easy to keep her secret from them. Annie was often not a little puzzled to know how she managed to elude the vigilance of the priest.
It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, when the air was just cool enough to be refreshing, that, with Mrs. Lee’s permission, Annie and her nurse sought their favourite seat by the mill-stream. Annie had been thinking more than usual about Annorah’s progress in religious knowledge, and wondering how, with the light and wisdom she had received, she could still cling to her old superstitions. A great change had taken place in her temper, which was now usually controlled; her manners had gradually become more gentle; but the radical change of heart that Annie so longed to witness, did not yet show itself.