The daylight failed suddenly as we turned from our perch on the edge of
the cliff, and began to grope our way across the old graveyard towards
the path which led up to Kilgorman House.
But that Tim was so set on seeing the hidden arms, and seemed so
scornful of my ill-concealed terror of the place, I should have turned
tail twenty times before I reached our destination. Yet in ordinary I
was no coward. I would cross the lough single-handed in any weather; I
would crack skulls with any boy in the countryside; I would ride any of
his honour's horses barebacked. But I shook in my shoes at the thought
of a ghost, and the cold sweat came out on my brow before ever we
reached the avenue-gates.
"What's to hurt you?" said Tim, who knew what was on my mind as well as
if I had spoken. "They say it's the lady walks through the house. Man,
dear, you're not afraid of a woman, are ye?"
"If she is alive, no," said I.
"She'll hurt ye less as she is," said Tim scornfully. "Anyway, if
you're afeard, Barry, you needn't come; run home."