As he drove up to Templemore on the evening of the second day of his journey, he was met by Dominic. He heard the voices of the other children chattering merrily as they were taken off to bed, but there was no sound of Maureen's voice to greet his ears.
"Father," said Dominic, "there is no use in hiding things. Maureen is gone!"
"My God," said the Rector. He pressed his hand to his heart. It gave him a stab like a knife.
"Don't take on, dad; please don't take on. She has not done anything desperate. She has simply gone away."
"Tell me everything, my son. Are you positive that the—the child is safe?"
"Yes," said Dominic; "there is no mystery about it. She is quite safe."
"Then she has gone to the Colonel," said the Rector in a relieved voice. "Good, I thought she might do that. She is wonderfully fond of 'dear Colonel,' as she calls him."
"No, no; she has not gone to Colonel Herbert. She has certainly been very queer, and although I tried to talk to her and cheer her all I could, she hardly replied and did not take the least interest in anything. Then yesterday morning she came to me with her plans. Her darling little face was as white as death, but terribly determined, and that strange light which does not come from God, father, was still in her eyes, and it—it sort of haunted me; but she spoke gently, just as she used to speak—the harshness had left her dear voice—it was only, father, that I could not bear to look at her eyes. You know how lovely they used to be. Well, she had settled everything all by herself, and told me that she had sent Garry with Fly-away back to Colonel Herbert. She said she had written a line to him asking him to keep the horse until he heard from her again; and if he never heard, she hoped he would not sell Fly-away. Then she said to me, 'Dominic, I am not good, and I cannot stay in the house with good people. I may get right again. I don't feel like it just now; so as I have money enough, I have arranged my plans. You know old Pegeen has a sister called Grace Connor, and she has a little bit of a cabin in the wilds of Kerry. I am going to stay with Grace, who is deaf, and won't worry me at all, and if ever, ever I feel better, Dominic, you'll be sure I'll come flying home. But not now, for I'm not fit for this dear home. Take great care of Uncle Pat. I won't leave him a message, for I am not, not good enough; but he'll understand.'
"Well, father," continued Dominic, "that's all; and Pegeen took her herself to Grace Connor, and Pegeen has returned with her eyes almost blinded from crying, for she does so love our Maureen."
The Rector of Templemore, tired as he was, went straight to the kitchen to interview Pegeen. He found the poor woman in the deepest distress, but more than inclined to pour out her troubles into the sympathetic ears of her dearly loved master.