The December afternoon was growing dark when the weary car-horse surmounted the last hill on the road from Clifden and broke into a shambling trot down the long straight stretch into Carrowkeel.

Soon, as the distance dwindled, the lights which twinkled here and there in the village became distinguishable.

This--Hyacinth recognised it--was the great hanging lamp in the window of Rafferty's shop.

That, a softer glow, came from the forge of Killeen, the smith.

That, and that, fainter and more uncertain lights, were from fires seen through the open upper section of cottage doors.