“‘I’d rather keep to my own, sir; and then I’ll make no mistakes.’ Well, he was a quiet gentleman, for he smiled at that. And he says again, ‘I would like to question you a little;’ and he was going on only I stopt him. ‘Question Father John Joyce, if you plaze, sir; I’ll give you his address—he always answered for me, and always will, that’s my comfort.’ And the name of my own blessed priest gave me strength. ‘He always answered for me,’ I repeated, ‘and for my people; he knows what he’s about, and will scorn to mislead any poor girl—it’s too bad, so it is, to be situated this way, that I can’t tell the differ between a holy priest and a protestant minister.’ Well, that settled him, as I thought it would; and he walks right away, and the pale beautiful lady in black, that had been leaning against a pillar like a _statute_, takes his arm; and the stout goold laced old gentleman beckons me on, not crossly. So I says, ‘Which of the sisters is that?’ And he gave a chuckle of a laugh: ‘That’s his _wife_,’ he says. “‘Oh! holy Moses,’ says I, ‘look at that now! his wife!’ And I thought of the candles and crosses and bowings; and all the saints he ran over; and the little boys in the little albs, and every thing so like the right—and yet the wrong; ‘his _wife_, and he a PRIEST! let me out of the place,’ I says, ‘for it’s a sin and a shame; neither one thing nor another; all a delusion; let me out;’ and then I stopt. ‘Maybe he’s not a priest at all!’ I inquired, looking at the stout old gentleman, ‘and if he’s not, what is he?’ “‘I’ll tell you, young woman,’ he answers, and he makes believe to whisper; and then it came on me like a flash of lightning, that I had got into neither the one nor the other, but into a _half-way house_! “‘And have you none of them in Ireland?’ he inquires.