“Let us be guided by him,” said the priest.  “Raymond,” he added, “we cannot go much faster through this marshy heath, but do you aid Mary as well as you can; as for me, I will try if it be possible to quicken my pace.”

He accordingly proceeded in advance of the other two for a little; but it was only for a little.  The female—­who seemed excited by some uncommon terror, and the wild, apprehensive manner of her companion, into something not unlike the energy of despair—­rushed on, as if she had been only setting out, or gained supernatural strength.  In a few minutes she was beside the priest, whom she encouraged, and besought, and entreated—­ay, and in some moments of more vehement feeling, absolutely chided, for not keeping pace with herself.  They had now, however, came within about a hundred yards of the cabin, which they soon reached—­the female entering it about a minute or two before the others, in order to make those humble arrangements about a sick-bed, which, however poverty may be forced to overlook on ordinary occasions, are always attended to on the approach of the doctor, or the minister of religion.  In the instance before us, she had barely time to comfort her sick husband, by an assurance that the priest had arrived, after which she hastily wiped his lips and kissed them, then settled his head more easily; after which she spread out to the best advantage the poor quilt which covered him, and tucked it in about his lowly bed, so as to give it something of a more tidy appearance.

The interior of the cottage, which the priest and Raymond entered together, was, when the bitter and inclement nature of the morning, and the state of the miserable inmates is considered, enough to make any heart possessing humanity shudder.  Two or three stools; a couple of pots; a few shelves, supported on pegs driven into the peat wall; about a bushel of raw potatoes lying in a corner; a small heap of damp turf—­for the foregoing summer had been so incessantly wet, that the turf, unless when very early cut, could not be saved; a few wooden noggins and dishes; together with a bundle of straw, covered up in a corner with the sick man’s coat, which, when shaken out at night, was a bed; and those, with the exception of their own simple domestic truth and affection, were their only riches.  The floor, too, as is not unusual in such mountain cabins, was nothing but the natural peat, and so damp and soft was it, that in wet weather the marks of their feet were visibly impressed on it at every step.  With the exception of liberty to go and come, pure air, and the light of the blessed day, they might as well have dragged out their existence in a subterraneous keep belonging to some tyrannical old baron of the feudal ages.

There was one small apartment in this cabin, but what it contained, if it did contain anything, could not readily be seen, for the hole or window, which in summer admitted the light, was now filled with rags to keep out the cold.  From this little room, however, the priest as he entered, was surprised to see a young man come forth, apparently much moved by some object which he had seen in it.