They had now arrived at a narrow part of the road, when the priest stood.
“Mr. Reilly,” said he, “I am very tired; but, as it is, we must go on a couple of miles further, until we reach Glen Dhu, where I think I can promise you a night's lodging, such as it will be.”
“I am easily satisfied,” replied his companion; “it would be a soft bed that would win me to repose on this night, at least.”
“It will certainly be a rude and a rough one,” said the priest, “and there will be few hearts there free from care, no more than yours, Mr. Reilly. Alas! that I should be obliged to say so in a Christian country.”
“You say you are fatigued,” said Reilly. “Take my arm; I am strong enough to yield you some support.”
The priest did so, and they proceeded at a slower pace, until they got over the next two miles, when the priest stopped again.
“I must rest a little,” said he, “although we are now within a hundred yards of our berth for the night. Do you know where you are?”
“Perfectly,” replied Reilly; “but, good mercy! sure there is neither house nor home within two miles of us. We are in the moors, at the very mouth of Glen Dhu.'
“Yes,” replied his companion, “and I am glad we are here.”
The poor hunted priest felt himself, indeed, very much exhausted, so much so that, if the termination of his journey had been at a much longer distance from thence, he would scarcely have been able to reach it.