It was as the evening drew near, and the Pilgrims were turning towards the lake, beside which, at a small thorn-tree, the last “station” of all was performed, that an old beggar, whose importunity suffered none to escape, blocked up the path, and prevented Mary from proceeding until she had given him something. All her money had been long since bestowed; and she said so, hurriedly, and endeavoured to move forward.
“Let Owen Connor, behyind you, give it, acushla! He's rich now, and can well afford it,” said the cripple.
She turned around at the words; the action was involuntary, and their eyes met. There are glances which reveal the whole secret of a lifetime; there are looks which dwell in the heart longer and deeper than words. Their eyes met for merely a few seconds; and while in her face offended pride was depicted, poor Owen's sorrow-struck and broken aspect spoke of long suffering and grief so powerfully, that, ere she turned away, her heart had half forgiven him.
“You wrong me hardly, Mary,” said he, in a low, broken voice, as the train moved on. “The Lord, he knows my heart this blessed day! Pater noster, qui es in colis?'” added he, louder, as he perceived that his immediate follower had ceased his prayers to listen to him. “He knows that I'd rather live and die the poorest—'Beneficat tuum nomen!'” cried he, louder. And then, turning abruptly, said:
“Av it's plazing to you, sir, don't be trampin' on my heels. I can't mind my devotions, an' one so near me.
“It's not so unconvaynient, maybe, when they're afore you,” muttered the old fellow, with a grin of sly malice. And though Owen overheard the taunt, he felt no inclination to notice it.
“Four long years I've loved ye, Mary Joyce; and the sorra more encouragement I ever got nor the smile ye used to give me. And if ye take that from me, now—Are ye listening to me, Mary? do ye hear me, asthore?—Bad scran to ye, ye ould varmint! why won't ye keep behind? How is a man to save his sowl, an' you making him blasphame every minit?”
“I was only listenin' to that elegant prayer ye were saying,” said the old fellow, drily.