HOW THE FAIRIES CAME TO IRELAND
an’ turned in the saddle. Not a sowl was in sight; there was only the lonely road and the lonesome hillside; the last glimmer of the fairy-fire was gone, and a curtain of soft blackness had fallen betwixt him an’ where the blaze had been.
“I bid you good night, Brian Connors!” the priest cried. From somewhere out of the darkness a woice called back to him, “Good night, your Riverence!”
[ 110 ]
