The Heir of Kilfinnan | Page 7

the winter passed away. Dermot, in spite of wind and rain, or sleet
or cold, persevered in his visits to the vicarage. He gained also an
acquaintance with religious truth, of which before he had been
profoundly ignorant. It was not very perfect, perhaps, but Mr Jamieson
put the Bible into his hands, and he thus obtained a knowledge of its
contents possessed by few of those around. Had the neighbouring
parish priest, Father O'Rourke, discovered whither he was going, and
the change that was constantly taking place in him, he would probably
have endeavoured to interfere, and prevent him from paying his visits
to the Protestant clergyman. Although he might not have hindered
Dermot from doing as he chose, he probably would have alarmed his
mother, who, though tolerably intelligent, was too completely under the
influence of superstition to have understood clearly the cause of the
priest's interference. In a certain sense, to Dermot's mind, the advantage
he possessed was not so great as at first sight might appear. As he
advanced in knowledge he became less and less contented with his lot
in life, or rather the wish increased that he might be able to raise
himself above it. By what means, however, was this to be accomplished?
He had no claim upon the Earl, who, although wishing that he might be
taught reading and writing, had not the slightest intention of raising him
above his present occupation. Mr Jamieson gave him no
encouragement; although perhaps, the idea had occurred to the worthy
minister, that the boy was fitted for something above the mere life of an
ordinary fisherman. Still the matter had not as yet troubled Dermot's
mind. It probably only occasionally passed through his thoughts, that
there was an existence, even in this world, something above that to
which it appeared he was doomed. Mr Jamieson had now resided for a
considerable number of years at the vicarage. He came there with high
anticipations of the amount of good he was likely to effect in that
neighbourhood. By degrees, however, he found that his efforts to raise
the people out of the state of ignorance in which they had been brought
up were likely to prove abortive. The parish priest did not indeed offer
him any open opposition, but he set an under current to work, which
silently, though effectually nullified all the vicar's efforts. Not one

proselyte had he made, and at length he abandoned his previous
intentions in despair of success, and consoled himself with the thought
that at least he would perform thoroughly all the duties of his station.
To such a conclusion many persons in his position have arrived,
whether rightly or wrongly it need not here be said. Mr Jamieson had
an only niece, who had of late years come to reside with him. She was
no longer very young, but was a gentle, quiet woman, whose great
desire was to do any good to her fellow-creatures which lay in her
power.
Miss O'Reilly had been for some time aware that a severe affliction was
about to overtake her. When she first arrived at the vicarage, she used
to go among the neighbouring peasantry, carrying a basket to relieve
the sick or starving, or to administer such comfort as she was able. She
enjoyed the beautiful scenery by which she was surrounded. Now,
however, she found that when she took a book the letters were dim and
indistinct, while all distant scenes were shut out from her view, as if a
thick mist hung over them. Blindness she felt was coming on. A
journey to Dublin was in those days a long and tedious, if not
somewhat dangerous undertaking. Still, at her uncle's desire,
accompanied by him, she performed it. But no hope was given by the
oculist whom she consulted, and she returned home with the
knowledge that in a short time she would require some one to lead her
by the hand whenever she might wish to move from the immediate
neighbourhood of the house.
Dermot had made frequent visits to the vicarage before Miss O'Reilly
was aware who he was. One day he met her while she was trying to
find her way a short distance from the house. He had seen her and knew
who she was. Seeing her in doubt as to the path she was to take, he,
with the native gallantry of the Irish, sprang forward and begged that he
might be allowed to lead her.
"And who are you, boy?" she asked. "What brings you to the
vicarage?"
Dermot told her his short history.

"You are then a pupil of my uncle's?"
"Yes, his reverence has been teaching me, and I love to learn from
him," answered Dermot.
This led to further conversation, and Dermot