"Well, Peter, you see, there has always been a priest in the family, and it would be a pity if there's not one in this generation. In '48 your grand-uncles joined the rebels, and they had to leave the country. You have an uncle a priest, and you are just like your uncle William."
And then James talked, but he did not seem to know very well what he was saying, and his father told him to stop—that Peter was going where God had called him.
"And you will tell her," Peter said, getting up, "that I have gone."
"I haven't the heart for telling her such a thing. She will be finding it out soon enough."
Outside the house—for he was sleeping at Father Tom's that night—Peter thought there was little luck in James's eyes; inside the house Pat Phelan and James thought that Peter was settled for life.
"He will be a fine man standing on an altar," James said, "and perhaps he will be a bishop some day."
"And you'll see her when you're done reaping, and you won't forget what Peter told you," said Pat Phelan.
And, after reaping, James put on his coat and walked up the hillside, where he thought he would find Catherine.
"I hear Peter has left you," she said, as he opened the gate to let the cows through.
"He came last night to bid us good-bye."