While this was performing, Doctor Finucane was making his recognitions with several of the company, to whom he had been long known during his visits to the neighbourhood.  I now resumed my place on the right of the Father, abandoning for the present all intention of disclaiming my rank, and the campaign was opened.  The priest now exerted himself to the utmost to recall conversation with the original channels, and if possible to draw off attention from me, which he still feared, might, perhaps, elicit some unlucky announcement on my part.  Failing in his endeavours to bring matters to their former footing, he turned the whole brunt of his attentions to the worthy doctor, who sat on his left.

“How goes on the law,” said he, “Fin?  Any new proofs, as they call them, forthcoming?”

What Fin replied, I could not hear, but the allusion to the “suit” was explained by Father Malachi informing us that the only impediment between his cousin and the title of Kinsale lay in the unfortunate fact, that his grandmother, “rest her sowl,” was not a man.

Doctor Finucane winced a little under the manner in which this was spoken:  but returned the fire by asking if the bishop was down lately in that quarter?  The evasive way in which “the Father” replied having stimulated my curiosity as to the reason, little entreaty was necessary to persuade the doctor to relate the following anecdote, which was not relished the less by his superior, that it told somewhat heavily on Mr. Donovan.

“It is about four years ago,” said the doctor, “since the Bishop, Dr. Plunkett, took it into his head that he’d make a general inspection, ’a reconnoisance,” as we’d call it, Mr. Lor—­that is, my lord!  Through the whole diocese, and leave no part far nor near without poking his nose in it and seeing how matters were doing.  He heard very queer stories about his reverence here, and so down he came one morning in the month of July, riding upon an old grey hack, looking just for all the world like any other elderly gentleman in very rusty black.  When he got near the village he picked up a little boy to show him the short cut across the fields to the house here; and as his lordship was a ’sharp man and a shrewd,’ he kept his eye on every thing as he went along, remarking this, and noting down that.

“‘Are ye regular in yer duties, my son?’ said he to the gossoon.

“‘I never miss a Sunday,’ said the gossoon; ’for it’s always walking his reverence’s horse I am the whole time av prayers.’

“His lordship said no more for a little while, when he muttered between his teeth, ’Ah, it’s just slander—­nothing but slander and lying tongues.’  This soliloquy was caused by his remarking that on every gate he passed, or from every cabin, two or three urchins would come out half naked, but all with the finest heads of red hair he ever saw in his life.

“‘How is it, my son,’ said he, at length; ’they tell very strange stories about Father Malachi, and I see so many of these children with red hair.  Eh—­now Father Malachi’s a dark man.’