“Ted, bhoy, he hates ye. Wud he have come down tu the township bhut tu forswear himsilf aginst ye? He meant that; bhut he had not the pluck tu du ut. Aye; let him go, an’ be done wi’ it, Ted. Ut is the shtick that the worrld will be breakin’ acrost his back is the wan thing will du Jimmie good this side the Punishment Day. Wud I have sint him unshriven if I did not know ut? Bhoy, bhoy; ye’re dear tu me, wan an’ ahl. Bhut softness is not mercy tu a sowl ivery toime, Ted Douglas.”
“I must go and find him,” said Ted Douglas, staring straight before him.
“Ye will not be that ov a fule!”
“I must find him. He’s that nervous, an’ alone, an’ weak. I’m strong.”
“What wud Mains do widout ye?”
This knife went home as Father Denis meant it to do. For Mains was as dear to Ted Douglas as himself. But Jimmie was dearer.
“I can’t help it. I wouldn’t leave Mains fur nothin’ else, an’—if the boys go makin’ mistakes, an’ me not there——— But I can’t help it. Jimmie has got ter come first. Father Denis, if ever you loved anybody, you’d know!”
The ring of his voice through the dark room left silence. Father Denis’ heart was bared to the girl on the wall. For, of a surety, she understood now, as she had not understood in life.
