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." This settled me.

I laughed recklessly, and said,-- "What's good enough for you is good enough for me.

I'm not afraid of a hundred ghosts." And indeed I should have felt easier in the company of a hundred than of one.
We halted a moment at my mother's grave as we went by.
"She lived up at the house once," said Tim.
"I know," said I.
"Come on," said Tim; "it's getting very dark." So we went on; and on the way I tried to recall what I knew of the story of Kilgorman, as I had heard it from my mother and the country folk.
Twelve years ago Terence Gorman, brother of his honour, lived there and owned all the lough-side from Dunaff to Dunree, and many a mile of mountain inland.

He was not a rich man, but tried, so folk said, to deal fairly with his tenants.