“Ah! Annorah, my dear nurse, I was afraid that rougher times awaited you. I was afraid they would persecute you.”
“But they haven’t yet, Miss Annie.”
“Perhaps it is not what you would call persecution, but it is sad to have those we love turn against us. You must trust in God, my poor girl. He will give you grace to bear it all.”
CHAPTER VI.
THE CONFESSIONAL—AN IRISH FROLIC.
Great was the uproar in Biddy Dillon’s cottage when it was found that Annorah was not coming to make her usual Saturday evening visit to her mother.
Preparations had been made by Father M‘Clane for holding a regular confessional; and an hour before sunset, he had taken his seat in the little darkened chamber, behind a table on which four tallow-candles were burning, with an uncertain, flickering light.
It had been decided in the council of relatives and friends that Annorah’s only chance of salvation lay in speedy confession, and it was very reasonably supposed, that could she be brought back to that Popish duty, a great point would be gained in the way to her perfect restoration.
It was, therefore, no affectionate, loving circle that had now assembled to “bear a hand” in Annorah’s restoration to the faith. One after another went reverently on their knees up the short, steep stairway, and came down lighter in purse, and, as the priest wickedly taught them, absolved of all offences, but swelling with wrath against the poor girl whose coming was so long delayed. And when, at last, it became apparent that she would not come, a storm of abuse was poured upon Biddy, who, it was evident to all, did not cordially join in their violent measures.