"She's a dear, sweet soul," the Bishop said.
"It's true."
They stepped on a few paces, and passed by the spot whereon the two fishermen laid down their dread burden from the Mooragh seven years before. Then Thorkell spoke again and in a feverish voice.
"D'ye know, Gilcrist, I sometimes awake in the night crying 'Ewan! Ewan!'"
The Bishop did not answer, and Thorkell, in another tone, asked when the Irish priest was to reach Michael.
"He may be here to-morrow," the Bishop said.
Thorkell shuddered.
"It must be that God is revenging himself upon us with this fearful scourge."
"It dishonors God to say so," the Bishop replied. "He is calling upon us to repent."
There was another pause, and then Thorkell asked what a man should do to set things right in this world if perchance he had taken a little more in usury than was fair and honest.