Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1904-01-26

your opinion of man who tumbles q
poor, defenseless girl into prison and
then refuses to let her be decently
cared for? How do you express your
self about him.
"NIy son, men often do things of
which they ought to be ashamed. |
heard of a young officer once who NAL
treated little girl that he met at
night in the street. What evil he
would have done, had not passing
kind hearted man reminded him Of his
honor by a friendly punch in the ribs,
l dare not surmise."
"True, and your sarcasm goes home
as hard as your fist did, father.
know that I've been sad dog all my
life. Miss Roussillon saved you by
shooting me, and | love her for it.
Lay on, father; | deserve more than
you can give me-"
Surely you do, my son, surely you
do, but my love for you will not let me
give you pain. All, we priests have to
carry all mems loads. Our backs are
broad, however; very broad, my SON."
"And your fists are heavy, father;
mighty heavy"
The gentle smile again flickered over
the priests weather beaten face as he
glanced sidewisc ut FarnswOrth and
said:
Sometimes, sometimes, my son, a
carnal weapon must break the way for
a spiritual one. But we priests rarely
have much physical strength. Our de-
pendence is upon
'To be sure; certainly" Farnsworth
interrupted rubbing his side. Your
dependence is upon the first thing that
offers. I've had many blow, but
yours was the solidest that ever Jared
my mortal frame, Father Beret."
The twain began to laugh. There is
nothing like reminiscence to stir up
fresh mutual sympathy.
IF your intercostals were somewhat
sore for time on account of a con-
tact with priestly knuckles, doubtless
there soon set in corresponding UNI
easiness in the region of your con-
science. Such shocks are often vigOr-
ously Alternative and tonic; eh, my
son?'
"You joltcd me sober, father, and
then | was ashamed of myself. But
where does all your tremendous
strength lie? You don't look strong"
While speaking FarnswOrth leaned
near Father Beret and grasped his
arm. The young man started, for his
fingers, instead of closing around a
habby, shrunken old mans limb,
spread themselves upon huge, knot
ted mass of iron muscles. With a
quick movement Father Beret shook
off Farnsworth's hand and said:
II am no Samson, my son. Non sum
qualis eram." Then, as if dismissinS
light subject for graver one. he
sighed and added, II suppose there is
nothing that can be done for little
Alice"
He called the tall. strong girl little
Alice" and so she seemed TO him. He
could not, without direct effort, think
of her as Il magniiicently maturing
woman. She had always been his
spoiled pet child, perversely set against
the holy church, but dear to him never
thelesS.
Il came 10 ask that very question.
father" said FarnSworth.
And what do know! Surely. my
son, you see how utterly hopeless an
old priest is against all you British
And besides
Father Beret." Farnsworth husl;ily
interrupted. lis there place that you
know of anywhere in which Miss
Roussllon could be hidden if
MY dear son.
"But, father, | mean it.
"Mean what? Pardon an old mans
slow understanding. What are you
talking about, my SOM!
Father Beret glanced furtively about.
then quickly stepped through the door
way, walked entirely around the house
and came in again before Farnsworth
could respond. Once more seated on
his stool he added intcrrogatively:
did you think you heard something
moving Outside:'
"No."
"You were saying something when
went out. Pardon my interruption.
Farnsworth gave the priest search
ing and not wholly confidins look.
"You did not interrupt me, Father
Beret. was not speaking. Why are
you so watchful? Are you afraid Of
you were speaking recklessly. Your
words were incendiary; ardentia verba.
My son, you were suggesting danger
Gus thing. Your life would scarcely
satisfy the law were you convicted OF
insinuating such treason. What If one
of your prowling guards had over
heard you? Your neck and mine might
feel the halter. QuOd avertat domi-
nus" He crossed himself ana in n
solemn voice added i'm English:
MAY the Lord forbid. All. my son.
we priests protect those we love-
"And |. who am not fit to tie n
priests shoe. do likewise. Father. ]
love Alice Roussillon.'
Love is holy thing. my son. Anlare
divinum est ct humanum."
"Fathcr Beret can you help me-:
spiritually speaking, my SON.
81 mean can You hide Mile. Roussi!-
lon in some safe place if take her out
of the prison yonder? That's just what
mean. Can you do it,
"Your question is remarkable one.
Have you thought upon 1t from all dl-
rectiOns, my son? Think of your po-
sition. your duty rs an officer"
A shrewd polemical expression beam
ed from Father Berets eyes, and Il
very expert physiognomist might nave
suspected duplicity from certain lines
about the old mans mouth.
81 simply know that | cannot stand
by and see Alice-Mlle. Roussillon-
forced to suffer treatment too beastly
for an Indian thief. That's the only
direction there Is for me to look mt 1t
from, and you can understand my
feelings il you will. You know that
very well Father Reret Whom man
loves a girl he loves her; that's the
whole thing"
The quiet, inscrutable half smile
flickered once more on Father Beret's
face. but lie sat silent some time with
II sinewy forefnger lying alongside his
aI.la.. L. ha cIaaEa Il lylS