In this state of feeling they applied to the parish priest, who, on hearing the marvellous stories related concerning her, and on questioning each man closely upon his authority, could perceive that, like most other reports, they were to be traced principally to the imagination and fears of the people.  He ascertained, however, enough from Bartley Sullivan to justify a belief that there was something certainly uncommon about the woman; and being of a cold, phlegmatic disposition, with some humour, he desired them to go home, if they were wise—­he shook his head mysteriously as he spoke—­“and do the woman no injury, if they didn’t wish”—­and with this abrupt hint he sent them about their business.

This, however, did not satisfy them.  In the same parish lived a suspended priest, called Father Philip O’Dallaghy, who supported himself, as most of them do, by curing certain diseases of the people—­miraculously!  He had no other means of subsistence, nor, indeed, did he seem strongly devoted to life, or to the pleasures it afforded.  He was not addicted to those intemperate habits which characterise “Blessed Priests” in general; spirits he never tasted, nor any food that could be termed a luxury, or even a comfort.  His communion with the people was brief, and marked by a tone of severe contemptuous misanthropy.  He seldom stirred abroad except during morning, or in the evening twilight, when he might be seen gliding amidst the coming darkness, like a dissatisfied spirit.  His life was an austere one, and his devotional practices were said to be of the most remorseful character.  Such a man, in fact, was calculated to hold a powerful sway over the prejudices and superstitions of the people.  This was true.  His power was considered almost unlimited, and his life one that would not disgrace the highest saint in the calendar.  There were not wanting some persons in the parish who hinted that Father Felix O’Rourke, the parish priest, was himself rather reluctant to incur the displeasure, or challenge the power of the Lianhan Shee, by driving its victim out of the parish.  The opinion of these persons was, in its distinct unvarnished reality, that Father Felix absolutely showed the white feather on this critical occasion—­that he became shy, and begged leave to decline being introduced to this intractable pair—­seeming to intimate that he did not at all relish adding them to the stock of his acquaintances.

Father Philip they considered as a decided contrast to him on this point.  His stern and severe manner, rugged, and, when occasion demanded, daring, they believed suitable to the qualities requisite for sustaining such an interview.  They accordingly waited on him; and after Bartley and his friends had given as faithful a report of the circumstances as, considering all things, could be expected, he told Bartley he would hear from Mrs Sullivan’s own lips the authentic narrative.  This was quite satisfactory, and what was expected from him.  As for himself, he appeared to take no particular interest in the matter, further than that of allaying the ferment and alarm which had spread through the parish.