"This cannot be the house," exclaimed Sybil starting back,
overwhelmed with shame and terror. "O! holy Virgin aid me!"
"And that's a blessed word to hear in this heathen land,"
exclaimed an Irishman, who was one of the group on the
outside.
"If you be of our holy church," said Sybil appealing to the
man who had thus spoken and whom she gently drew aside, "I
beseech you, by everything we hold sacred, to aid me."
"And will I not?" said the man; "and I should like to see the
arm that would hurt you;" and he looked round, but the young
man had disappeared. "You are not a countrywoman I am
thinking," he added.
"No, but a sister in Christ," said Sybil; "listen to me, good
friend. I hasten to my father,--he is in great danger,--in
Hunt Street,--I know not my way,--every moment is precious,--
guide me, I beseech you,--honestly and truly guide me!"
"Will I not? Don't you be afraid my dear. And her poor
father is ill! I wish I had such a daughter! We have not far
to go. You should have taken the next turning. We must walk
up this again for 'tis a small street with no thoroughfare.
Come on without fear."
Nor did Sybil fear; for the description of the street which
the honest man had incidentally given, tallied with her
instructions.
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