His respect for the goodly company of the monks of Irelagh detained him
until adjournment to vespers, when he set forward on his return to
Innisfallen. Whether his mind was occupied in philosophic contemplation or
wrapped in pious musings, I cannot declare; but the honest father wandered
on in a different direction from that in which his shallop lay. Far be it
from me to insinuate that the good liquor, which he had so commended, had
caused him to forget his road, or that his track was irregular and
unsteady. Oh, no!--he carried his drink bravely, as became a decent man
and a good Christian; yet, somehow, he thought he could distinguish two
moons. "Bless my eyes," said Father Cuddy, "everything is changing
now-a-days!--the very stars are not in the same places they used to be; I
think _Camceachta_ (the plough) is driving on at a rate I never saw it
before to-night; but I suppose the driver is drunk, for there are
blackguards everywhere."
Cuddy had scarcely uttered these words when he saw, or fancied he saw, the
form of a young woman, who, holding up a bottle, beckoned him towards her.
The night was extremely beautiful, and the white dress of the girl floated
gracefully in the moonlight, as with gay step she tripped on before the
worthy father, archly looking back upon him over her shoulder. "Ah,
Margery--merry Margery!" cried Cuddy, "you tempting little rogue--'_Et a
Margery bella--Quae festiva puella_.
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