The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1893-12-20
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1t was the evening of All Souls day.
Masses for the dead had been going on
all day in the old church among the
hills; vespers were just over, the congre-
cation had dispersed. and the sacristan
glided noiselessly about extinguishing
the lights. Only the priest fingered He
had laid aside his vestments and knelt,
a black shadow among the shadows,
in one of the side chapels His heart
was heavy. The day before he had gone
to Quimper to visit Herve Nedelec i'm the
prison; the trial was but ten days dis
tant. and not a scrap of evidence was
forthcoming to eXculpate the poor lad
The unlucky point was that he had
Slipped out of the public house with the
earliest dawn, witout seeing anyone; not
a soul could testify that he had really
spent the night there; it looked very
black.
The sacristan paused. having ended his
task; he Strengthened a few books and
hassocks n the choir and coughed def
erentially; he wanted to go home TO
his supper, poor man. Armand rose
from his knees. 'You can lock the
doors and go; 1 have my key of the
sacristy. Lock that door also as you so
out; l do not wish to be disturbed" The
man obeyed, mu1muring as he went that
his fasts and vigils. He locked the great
west doors first, then the south porch;
the chancel door was fast already Then
he went out by the sacristy; the outer
door changed behind him and the key
turned with a click
Now Armand felt himself alone He
returned 10 the shrine Of st. Corentin
and threw himself on his knees upon
the stones. 1t was no personal sorrow
that weighed him down, but sympathy
for the best loved Of his flock in this
cruel tribulation; and horror also that
a CHASTITY crime had been committed
here, in his very parish, and that he
could do nothing TO avert the punishment
that was about to fall upon an innocent
head. He went over his last interview
with Herve in the prison. The poor lad
had knelt at his feet, and with the can
dor and simplicity of a child had made
confession Of his sins; of a drunken
brawl at Brest, of his neglect of mass
of the many slips Of his rough and sore
ly tempted life. 1t was not possible that
a hideOus crime lurked behind And
when the priest ha1 absolved and blessed
him he had burst INTO a flood Of boyish
tears, and, Selling the kind hands
sobbed out: "Oh, my father you know
/ am Innocent Can't you save me? 1t
seems too terrible to die so, with such
a shame on mel 1 did love my poor
mother, though 1 was not always such
a good son as l might have been. They
have taken away my money; they say
/ robbed her of it, when 1 was bringing
1t to her. Perhaps they would let me
have some of it to give you to say a
mass for her soul"
Don't trouble about the money, boy;
the masses shall be said"
The warder's step Is heard IN the
corridor outside, intimating that il was
time the interview should end 1t went
near to break Armand's heart to leave
the boy there In his cell, sitting on the
side of his narrow bed. And now the
time was slipping by, and there was no
help, no hope. He flung his whole soul
into the petition that some discovery
might be made in time.
He was so lost in prayer that the
sound of heavy footstep advancing up
the aisle did not at first surprise him:
1t reused him from his abstraction, how
ever. and he rose to confront a rough
looking man in sailors dress. with pale
face and a tangled red beard. In his