wickeder looking it’s getting every minute.’ But Grania’s face was set like a flint. She had picked up the petticoat and gathered it about her shoulders again, her whole air showing a determination utterly defiant of all blandishments. ‘It is to look for Teige O’Shaughnessy I am going now,’ she said briefly. ‘And if I do not find him, then I am going to Aranmore by myself, for I will not let my sister Honor die and never a priest near her, so I will not, God help me!’ Murdough felt the natural displeasure of a man who has taken great pains to explain a matter in the clearest possible manner and who finds that all his explanations have been simply thrown away. He was annoyed, too, by the mention of Teige’s name. ‘Then it is not Teige O’Shaughnessy you will find, for it was over to Allinera he went this morning with his pack, and it is not back he will be able to get home through this fog, the poor _boccach_, I am thinking,’ he said contemptuously. ‘And as for your going alone to Aranmore in a curragh this night you will not do _that_ either, I am thinking, so you will not. If you do, ’tis the mad woman you are--the mad woman out and out!’ And he turned upon his heel to go back into the house. ‘Then it is the mad woman I am, sure and certain,’ she answered, ‘for it _is_ going I am, and so good-night to you, Murdough Blake.’ There was a mutual pause. Both had now said all that they had got to say. Both had reached a platform from which there was no receding. Murdough was absolutely determined that, let what would happen, nothing should tempt him to stir abroad upon such an evening. Grania was still more absolutely determined that, come what would, a priest for Honor she must and would get. If Murdough would not help her, then Teige should. If Teige proved to be really from home, then she would go by herself, and find her way across the sound as best she could. If every man in Inishmaan was afraid of the fog, _she_ was not afraid. Honor should not die without a priest. That fact, amongst much that was dim and confused, stood out absolutely fixed and certain. She turned round resolutely, therefore, to go, and then--and then--she turned back again! She was torn in two. Was this the end? the very, very end? Were they parting like this? That it was no everyday parting, not even any everyday quarrel, of that she felt absolutely certain. Was it, _could_ it be the end of all things? No, it couldn’t be! she told herself. It was not possible! Again her faith in Murdough--the real, the invisible Murdough, rose--rose, too, in the very teeth of evidence. It was _not_ possible, she decided; he was joking, she felt sure of it. She turned therefore; hesitated; went a few steps onward; then again stopped, and again hesitated.