"Miss Priscilla got tired of the life at Desmondstown and she come to me one evening late, as sure as I'm standing here, and she says, says she, 'I'm going to London after Kathleen, and if Kathleen has married, why shouldn't I?' Eh, to be sure I did what I could to stop her, but she would have her way. She wrote to The Desmond and tell't him that she had married and she didn't want no bones made about it, and she never mentioned the name of her husband, honest man. I've heard tell that she's turned out a sharp, sour woman, but she's married to John Mansfield--the best man that ever walked. So he's uncle by marriage to little missie. It's all a fact, yer honour, ye can't help it. Ye must swallow your pride, and all I can say is this, that John Mansfield deserved a better lot." "Well, tell me this," said Fergus after a time. "I never cared for Priscilla--we none of us did--she was the eldest of the whole house, even older than my sister Norah, and tried to rule us with a rod of iron. If it hadn't been for my father, The Desmond, she would have made the place unbearable. So she took the child when her parents died?" "She did so," replied Phinias. "It was the only good thing she done as far as I hear tell on." "Listen to me, Phinias," said Fergus, "I want your help in this matter." "To be sure, to be sartin sure, yer honour." "Well, it's like this," said Fergus. "Don't you let it out to your wife or your neighbours. Keep it close within your breast." "I will that, yer honour. I am wonderful at kapin' a sacret." "Well, this is the state of things," said Fergus. "My father is an old man and full of years, and Madam, bless her heart, is not too young, and they've both taken a fancy to the little push-keen. We want to keep her, Phinias." "Oh, Lord, sir; yer honour I mane, whatever for?" "For the sake of my father," said Fergus. "He's gone fair mad over the child, and if John Mansfield has got a grain of human nature in him, he won't part the child from her own true grandfather. I'm going to see him to-night, but not a word is to be mentioned to little miss, and I want you to give me his address, Phinias Maloney." "Well, to be sure, I can do that fine," said Phinias. "Didn't he give me his kyard when he put the bit colleen into my care, and didn't he look nigh to weepin'. He's an elegant man, yer honour, and he loves the little colleen like anythin'. There's nothin' on earth he wouldn't do for the pretty dear, but I can see that he's mortal afraid of 'herself'--that's Miss Priscilla that was. His address is Handley Vicarage, Balderstown, near Earlminster. You won't see much of the old farmer in the Rev. John Mansfield, yer honour. To look at, he's a gintleman as good as yourself and with 'the spiritual eye.'" "Whatever do you mean by that, Phinias?"