Connor, who was by no means so well acquainted with the path as his companion, followed him in the way pointed out, and in a few minutes they found themselves walking at a brisk pace in a direction that led homewards by a shorter cut.  Connor’s mind was too much depressed for conversation, and both were proceeding in silence, when Flanagan started in alarm, and pointed out the figure of some one walking directly towards them.  In less than a minute the person, whoever he might be, had come within speaking distance, and, as he shouted “Who comes there?” Flanagan bolted across the ditch, along which they had been going, and disappeared.  “A friend,” returned Connor, in reply to the question.

The other man advanced, and, with a look of deep scrutiny, peered into his face.  “A friend,” he exclaimed; “faith, it’s, a quare hour for a friend to be out.  Who are you, eh?  Is this Connor O’Donovan?”

“It is; but you have the advantage of me.”

“If your father was here he would know Phil Curtis, any way.’’

“I ought to ’a known the voice myself,” said Connor; “Phil, how are you? an’ what’s bringin’ yourself out at this hour?”

“Why, I want to buy a couple o’ milk cows in the fair o’ Kilturbit, an’ I’m goin’ to catch my horse, an’ make ready.  It’s a stiff ride from this, an’ by the time I’m there it I’ll be late enough for business, I’m thinkin’.  There was some one wid you; who was it?”

“Come, come,” said Connor, good—­humoredly, “he was out coortin’, and doesn’t wish to be known; and Phil, as you had the luck to meet me, I beg you, for Heaven’s sake, not to breathe that you seen me near Bodagh Buie’s to-night; I have various reasons for it.”

“It’s no secret to me as it is,” replied Curtis; “half the parish knows it; so make your mind asy on that head.  Good night, Connor!  I wish you success, anyhow; you’ll be a happy man if you get her; although, from what I hear has happened, you have a bad chance, except herself stands to you.”

The truth was, that Fardorougha’s visit to the Bodagh, thanks to the high tones of his own shrill voice, had drawn female curiosity, already suspicious of the circumstances, to the keyhole of the parlor-door, where the issue and object of the conference soon became known.  In a short time it had gone among the servants, and from them was transmitted, in the course of that and the following day, to the tenants and day-laborers! who contrived to multiply it with such effect, that, as Curtis said, it was indeed no secret to the greater part of the parish.

Flanagan soon rejoined Connor, who, on taxing him with his flight, was informed, with an appearance of much regret, that a debt of old standing due to Curtis had occasioned it.

“And upon my saunies, Connor, I’d rather any time go up to my neck in wather than meet a man that I owe money to, whin I can’t pay him.  I knew Phil very well, even before he spoke, and that was what made me cut an’ run.”