The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1894-09-01

voice of Donovan Rorke, as with
simulated anguish and penitencc he
confessed himself us D murderer; the
victim was man who he had waylaid
one evening at a certain place, and
shot him in the back, then thrown the
dead man and weapon into a deep, dry
old well overgrown by thick bushes,
of which the assassin knew. His
motive was revenge, which he had
nursed for three years. and killed this
man because that he found ont would
best have it out of the spalpeen he
hated, since this one loved the dead
man-there Rorke had paused, and
the priest, with blood growing ice
cold in an awful suspicion. was creep
Ing over him, asked sternly where was
the scene of the crime? who was the
murdered man? Then there had
come low, jeering laugh through the
grating.
"Sure thin, your riverence's own
brother, Terence. and now We know it,
but under the seal of confession,
father, so We can't inform on me-"
LOO TRUE WAS llt
too perfect and secure the cruelty dew
ilish revenge: and well both murderer
and priest knew that the former
must go free for all the latter
could do; the canon is absolute
the sacred seal inviolate of that
told to the priest in confession,
and the assassin of Terence OBrien
must go free in the full knowledge of
the living brother-which was the very
revenge Borke meant, and now gloated
over He had not told the where
abouts of the crime either, lest posi-
bly, some clue might be got from that
1t might possibly, the priest thought,
when he could think at all calmly-be
open to question whether economically
such a confession. made not in pepi-
tence but avowediy in revenge, bias
phemy of the sacrament surely, was n
true confession at all, but that of
course only his ecclesiastical superiors
could consider, and even then how was
a poor parish priest buried in remote
district to get at such distances very
quickly? Meanwhile the man could
escape.
But Rorbe did not leave the village
at once-not he; he hung about just
for the devilish pleasure of constantly
throwing himself in the priests way.
with a leer and grin of low triumph,
and after mocking top o. the morn
ing to your reverence, sure it's ill we're
looking"
Father O'Brien, stern and pale. never
took the slightest notice of the fell
low, who was more often at the whis-
| ky shop than anywhere else; and
looked upon askance by most of the
villagers as rather a hang-dog spal-
peen-a stranger to whom no one took.
Two or three weeks from that terri
bic Friday passed in this way, and then
one afternoon farmer at distance
sent for Father Patrick to come over
his son was very i'll. Of course, the
Priest went at once, borrowing from
one of his flock who actually possessed
such riches. an old but strong mare,
and little low built cart-a primitive
equipage Boosting even for the reins
only two very long pieces of rope which
coiled down in the cart.
II mayn't be back tonight, Norah,
Father Patrick told the old dame who
waited on him. and off he drove' with
| the small boy who had brought the
message. Nor was the good priest
back that night for the farmer would
not hear of it, and it was not till the
next morning. therefore, that Father
O'Brien started off again for jog.
trot home over fifteen miles of rough
roads-so called by :courtesy-traclSs
| our American cousins would have more
correctly termed them, tor most of the
way.
We'll go round by the crossroads
acushla macree," said Father Patrick
STOPPING forwards to pat the mare
TITS trife longer, but it's better
road, and when we're there were only
five miles from home, honey"
The old mare doubtless quite under
stood, and logged on contentedly
enough, till presently the crossroads
in scattered sort of wooding, were
reached. The priest pulled up where
the four roads met. and got down.
''Sure, Aileen, it's a rest and a bit o.
grass that ye'li have here" said he
There it is, old honey, as fresh as &
daisy, bedad."
Whilst he was talking to the mare, &
rough head, guiltless of even ''cor
been,' was lifted from behind mas
"a q