“Do not quarrel with him, mother,” replied the daughter.
“Let him be dacent, and it’s ceevil treatment he’ll get; but no man shall browbeat me on me own floor,” said Biddy, in a tone which declared the firmness of her purpose.
It was on the night succeeding this conversation, that Father M‘Clane visited the cottage. As he approached the house he paused at the unusual sound of a voice reading. It was Phelim imperfectly spelling out to his mother and a few of the neighbours one of the letters of Kirwan. The priest, who was not remarkably well versed in the books of the day, did not know the work, but supposed that it was the Bible to which they were so profoundly listening. His face grew as dark as the night shades around him.
“I’ve caught ye at last!” he exclaimed, as, without ceremony, he burst into the room. “This tells the story. It’s not that ye are ill in bed, or hindered by the rain, or the could; it’s because ye are heretics all, that ye shun the confession and the holy mass. Do ye know what the Church has power to do wi’ the like o’ ye? Arrah! it was the heavenly and not the mortal wisdom that made the hot fires o’ purgatory for such. Small help will ye get from me when the flames are scorching ye. Never a mass shall be said for a sowl o’ ye, unless ye repent at once.”
“And what call have ye to spake the like o’ that,” said Biddy, “and me sitting peaceably by me own fire wi’ the neighbours?” She spoke in a low, uncertain tone, for his sudden appearance had startled her. A hush had fallen on the little assembly, and signs of terror flitted across the faces of the most timid, as the familiar voice of the priest recalled their old Popish fears. He was not slow to perceive this, or to take advantage of it.
“And who taught yer lame boy to read at all? Who brought the heretic Bible into yer house? And who gathered the poor neighbours together to hear the false words that lead to perdition? Answer me that, Misthress Dillon,” said the priest in a tone of anger.
Biddy did not reply, though she had quite regained her usual courage.
“I’ll ask ye a plain question, Biddy Dillon, and I want a straight answer. Will ye, or will ye not, give up these heretic doings, and stay in the communion o’ the holy Church?”
“An’ it plaze yer riverence,” replied Biddy, no ways disconcerted, “yer blessed saints are nothing to me; an’ I shall do as I plaze.”
“Hear the woman! Do you hear the bould blasphemer?” he exclaimed.