"Wisha, thin, Mrs. Darcy, you wor always the good nabor. Would it be asking too much, ma'am, to give us thim few kippeens on the floor? Sure Abby says she'd like to have a little bit of holly to stick round the Infant Jesus this holy and blessed night." "'T is aisy for some people to be proud. Aisy got, aisy gone. But 't is quare to be taking what ought to go to the house of God to make a babby-show for ourselves." "Yerra, whisht, 'uman, we must hould our heads as high as we can while we have it. It may go soon, and Mary Darcy may wish to be no betther thin her nabors." Ah me! Here is the great world in miniature. "There is not a word of news going?" I said to Miss Campion, as we walked up and down the moss-covered walk that lay to the south side of the little church. "Nothing, Father," she said, "except, indeed, that father makes his Christmas Communion in the morning; and oh! I am so thankful to God and to Father Letheby." "It is really good news, Beata," I replied. I sometimes called her Beata, for Bittra sounds horrid. I intend to compromise on her wedding morn by calling her Beatrix. "Really good news. It will add considerably to the happiness of one, whose only object in life appears to be to make every one around her happy. But there is no other news that may be supposed to interest in a far-off way the old pastor, who gave Beata her First Communion, and--?" She blushed crimson, and held down her head. "Now," I said, "give your old parish priest your arm, for I am getting more and more feeble every day, and tell him all. Perhaps he could help you too." "Oh, Father, if you could; but it is almost too much to expect from God. Perhaps I'd forget Him." "Not much fear of that," I exclaimed fervently; "but now let us calculate the chances." "But oh, Father, if you only knew Rex,--he is so good, so gentle, he takes so kindly to the poor, ("the clever rascal," I ejaculated under my breath,) and he likes us so much, I'm sure it needs but little to make him an excellent Catholic." Well, now, what is a poor old man to do? Here am I, prepared to calculate and balance chances of this young man's conversion,--the _pros_ and _cons_ of a serious matter; and here this young lady branches off into a magnificent apotheosis of her young demigod! What has the cold yellow candle light of reason to do in the _camera obscura_ of the human heart? Let us fling open the shutters, and let in the golden sunshine. "So I've heard," I said. "And I also know this, Beata, that is, I've read something like it in good books, written by holy and thoughtful men, that the gift of faith is given freely by the Holy Spirit to those who, like your _fiancé_, have led pure and unsullied lives." She started at the word _fiancé_, and the smile on her face was a study. Poor old Dante! no wonder you walked on air, and lightly spurned the stars, when your lady beckoned. "Beatrice in suso, ed io in lei guardava." So shall it be to the end.