"Alas!" he said, presently, "she is dead."
"Dead!" I repeated, and my heart became cold.
"Yes. She came here some time ago. She was very pale and fragile when she came. She was in sore distress, too. But she received the consolation of the Church, and died in the faith."
At this all my strength seemed to ebb away from me, and my hands became nerveless.
"How long is it since she died?" I asked.
"About three weeks ago," he replied.
"And where was she buried?"
"I would show you her grave," he replied, "but the house is not mine. I grieve to see your sorrow, but there is consolation, young man. Trouble for our young sister no longer, for she is with the blessed. I am sorry I cannot offer you food and shelter; but it is only four miles to St. Columb, and you will find accommodation there."
"But surely there is an inn here?" I suggested.
"Yes; but it is not a place you would care to stay at, and you will fare far better at St. Columb. Good-night."