The old Father told her one could never be too old to learn from books. He loved her craving for knowledge. Had he not taught her himself, since she was twelve? He looked at her proudly.
"Father!" She whispered now, and the rose flush deepened in her face. "It's Danny Lynch that comes every evening to see me."
Now Father Murphy turned squarely and regarded her with startled eyes. This slip of a girl was the most precious colleen in his flock.
"And, Father, it's of America he talks all the time!"
The old priest shivered as though from a chill. Sensing his feeling, Moira caught his hand quickly and held it in a close grip.
"But if I go away it's not forgetting you I'll be! Oh, who in all this world has been a better friend to Moira O'Donnell? Who has taught Moira but you?"
"Child—"
"Sure it's grown-up I am! See!" She sprang to her feet and stood slimly erect. "See?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes. And your old priest had not noticed. Moira—" he caught her arm, leaned forward and peered into her face as though to see through it into her soul. "Moira, girl, is it courage I have taught ye? And honor? And faith?"
Her heart was singing now over the secret she had shared with him. Who would not have courage and faith when one was so happy? With a lift of her shoulders, a tilt of her head, she shrugged away his seriousness.