"Ah! but I am so afraid you will hate me," said she; "and that will be worse than losing my place."
Griffith stamped on the ground. "What is it?" said he, fiercely.
Ryder seemed frightened. "It is nothing," said she; then she paused, and added, "but my folly. I can't bear to see you waste your feelings. She is not so ill as you fancy."
"Do you mean to say that my wife is pretending?"
"How can I say that? I wasn't there: nobody saw her fall; nor heard her either; and the house full of people. No doubt there is something the matter with her; but I do believe her heart is in more trouble than her back."
"And what troubles her heart? Tell me, and she shall not fret long."
"Well, sir: then just you send for Father Leonard: and she will get up, and walk as she used, and smile on you as she used. That man is the main of her sickness, you take my word."
Griffith turned sick at heart: and the strong man literally staggered at this envenomed thrust of a weak woman's tongue. But he struggled with the poison.
"What d'ye mean, woman?" said he. "The priest hasn't been near her these two months."
"That is it, sir," replied Eyder, quietly; "he is too wise to come here against your will; and she is bitter against you for frightening him away. Ask yourself, sir, didn't she change to you the moment that you threatened that Leonard with the horse-pond?"