The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1899-05-28
BY KATHLEEN MATHEW.
Copyright, 1899. by Kathleen Mathew)
Part l
Duty VS.. Justice.

Midnight rang out from the belfry OF
st. Sebastian's Catholic church, the
most fashionable church of that de-
nomination in New York City.
1t was hot, oppressive August night.
The air was heavy with electricity that
would not burst and sweep some OF the
awful humidity from the atmosphere.
In the rectory adjoining the church
the pastor and his two domestics, an
old housekeeper and a man servant,
had, in accordance with their usual
custom, gone to bed quite early.
But Friar darcy, the young curaIe,
still sat at his study window, looking
out at the night, or seeming to 90 so.
He was very handsome man, with
the kind of face that men trust and
women love; the kind of face that
haunts one who has once seen it, he
cause OF something strangely prophetic
in the eyes.
This something it is hard to .!e6ne,
but most people have felt it at times
There are eyes with nothing behind
them. You feel that tomorrow they
Will go out forever.
But these other eyes. the prophetic
ones, seem to foretell an immortal
futurity, here or in other worlds. Who
knews? Only with or without reason
you feel sure that somewhere, forever,
they will continue to see. Friar
d'Arcy's were of this order. In color
they were gray and deep set, with
heavy dark brows and lashes. The nose
was straight and strong, with clean
cut, sensitive nostrils. The mouth,
large and full, might have been sensu-
Gus had not years of ascetic training
drawn and changed its lines. The head
was superbly shaped, and built on the
shoulders 1t was covered with heavy
masses of dark, curling hair. worn
close-cropped almost to tonsorial Sc
verify.
But anyone who could have gazed
into the young priests face on this
particular night, would have noticed
nothing but its expression, which de-
noted intense mental agony Horror.
fear, resolve. doubt, despair, all swept
over the features in turn. One chased
the other but to return again, like the
spokes of an ever-revolving wheel.
TIVE months before Henry Arthur
darcy had completed his long clerical
course, and, amidst the imposing cere-
monies of the Catholic church, had
been solemnly ordained a priest.
On the day of his ordination, as he
lay PROSTATE at the foot of the altar
before uttering the last VOWS of conse-
Grafton. what hopes, ambitions and
resolutions were reflected on the cam
era of his mind;
The good he would do: The wonders
he would accomplish in the world.
Like another Savonarola, he would
wage war against the superstition that
made a serfdom of Gods service.
Single-handed and alone, he would
sweep from the eyes of the multitude
the cobwebs of credulity which i'm
peded their progress. He had found
the light. and he wanted ali the world
to enter into the grand curve of its or
bit. And perhaps-some day-involun-
tarily his eyes wandered to the episco-
pal throne, where his grace, the arch
bishop, sat in mitred and regal dignity.
Henry Arthur darcy was an ambitious
man. with a power-loving and power
full nature.
Immediately after his ordination, he
wns appointed TO the curacy Of st. Sc
bastian's church.
He had entered on his duties there
with much ardor and enthusiasm.
But before one week had seen him
at his post, an extraordinary change
took place in the young priest.
This change dated from a Saturday
afternoon in June. when for the first
time he took his seat in the confessional
to exercise the enormous power of his
ministry. to hold or retain the sins of
his felloWman.
He had entered the tribunal with the
courage and sanctity of a young Ig-
IdllNS, Jul dIlti HdN4l4S ItdIu the Gull
fession of his first penitent, he had i'm
mediately left the confessional and
sent word that he would hear no more
confessions that afternoon. From that
moment he was an altered man. He
grew silent and performed his priestly
duties with a dull apathy, strangely
contrary to his former ardor.
On this hot August night. as he sat
at his window looking out with I'M
seeing gaze, could the brush of some
artist have seized the expression on his
face, that painters fame and fortune
were assured. In it lay a drama such
as no Hugo or Lardon has ever yet
told
1t looked as if it had lived through
the tragedy of each human life, "since
man was born to sorrow, as the sparks
fly upward and each had left its
trace, not in scar or wrinkle, but in
the fathomleSs agony of the eyes and
tensity of the lines around the mouth.
For the monotonous agony of mind
which for two months had wracked the
young priest there seemed TO be no
respite. Day and night the same
thoughts were always recurring and
giving birth TO the same arguments. A
certain apathetic heaviness seemed to
hang around his brain, paralyzing it
to all ideas that did not bear on the
awful problem which was creating a
schism in his mind between duty and
justice.
Two O'Clock struck. and then 3, and
presently sickly gray dawn light stole
into the room and gave form and pal
pa biiity to the objects il touched
The Man of Sorrows looked down
from the ebony crucifiX over the man
tel.
Did he know Of the agony in his dis
ciples heart? Perhaps, but he gave no
sign. on the wall over the bed, Guido's |
beautiful Madonna looked eternally
upward. with her heart-broken, tear
filled eyes. As the light grew stronger,
the young priest looked up and into
those eyes.
He thought: IF they would but look |
down into mine, they might give me |
counsel, tell me how to act, whether to |
keep still, and true to my oath of eter- |
mai silence and perhaps go mad be- |
meath the burden of my secret. Or |
would they counsel me to scatter vows |
of holy church to the winds and see
justice ride triumphant through dark
places?"
Perhaps the Virgin understood, and |
the woman in her throbbed to his suf- |
fering. for, presently CLEAN of light /
the first in weeks-shot through his |
mind.
Why not go and seek council of
higher powers in this dark hour of |
and uncertainty? Why not |
seek out his bishop, a man of ripe ex-
cool, righteous judgment? Why not |
ask him to disentangle this mysteri- |
Gus wool of duty and justice, and abide |
by his decision?
No sooner had this idea presented |
itself to Father darcy than he re-