The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1912-04-27

leen?" said |, also smiling. "And will
you go to confession tonight and fin.
ish up the mission, like a good grip
i will-for your sake, Father. But
| can't go to confession till Saturday
night"
well, as you wish. But, somehow,
| should prefer you to go tonight.
Father Maurice is hearing out in the
church now. He is patient and kind
and would understand-everyth "
For a moment the girl looked troub-
led, undecided
"Ah, leave it till Saturday night,
Father" she said pleadingly. And
then it's to yourself and no one else
will co."
And now something impelled me to
speak with the utmost seriousness.
Il hope you won't regret this delay,
Kathleen" I said as gently as posi-
BILE, "But sometimes God sends us a
grace on Thursday night which He
Withholds from us on Saturday"
She seemed startled for a moment,
and then she recovered herself. TAX
| ing a little ribbon from under her
cloak, she showed me her Child of
Mary medal, furnished a trifie from
constant wear.
She's been looking out for me ali
these years." said the girl, simply;
''and / think she will take care of me
till Saturday, Father
The next moment she had slipped
through the door and was gone.
Ny thoughts that evening l can
hardly put into words. They swept
a gamut of emotions. And my SER
mon-I happened to be the preacher
that night-well, they tell me I thun-
dered! A line at least three yards in
length bombarded the sacristy door
at the conclusion
20 Father, what can we do?" was
the universal plant. 1--WE didn't know
the girls were having so hard time. -
What can you do?" I said. Go
home and build them a dance hail.
The majority of my auditors gasped.
| Yes [ repeated, "a dance hall
good, decent, respectable place, as
close to the church as you like-the
closer the better-but with plenty of
reasonable freedom. Then they won't
be going to ruin on the streets. And
clean your dirty homes and make
them bright and comfortable" Ct had
caught glimpse of my friend, Mrs
Mulcahey, on the outskirts of the
throng)
That night felt into a heavy slum.
Der almost as soon as my head touch
ed the pillow. And so when my night
bell rang it was an instant or two
before | realized what the hollow
clamor meant. But I was fully awake
in another moment as voice came
agonizingly up the tube:
'Quick!-hurry, Father! Come to
Mike Mulcahey's. Kathleen is DYING
and asking for you''
You may be sure it did not take me
long to respond to the summons.
My messenger had gone on ahead;
but it was beautiful moonlight night
and | knew my way perfectly. l had
to go out into a rather unsettled part
of the town, but l calculated that ]
could reach the house inside of fiji
teen minutes at the most-long
enough, though! for a soul to have
many times passed into eternity.
"Ah, Kathleen, Kathleen, why did
you not do as wanted you to do this
EVENING""
[ believe l breathed the words
quite audibly. At the moment I look.
ed up, and there, distinctly before me
in the bright moonlight, stood the
figure of Kathleen Mu1cahey. I was
about to speak, but something sealed
my lips. The girl looked at me with
pleading, beseeching eyes. She bent
her head slowly, and then like a flash
realized what l ought to. do. raised
my right hand, a trif1e unsteady per
haps, but my voice uttered the solemn
words; Ego tie absolvo :" AS they
died away on my lips | found myself
alone on the quiet street. I looked al
my watch; it was five minutes tc
twelve. l continued on my errand
lit seemed as If [ must do SOL, and
the town clocks were striking midnight
as I knocked upon Mike Mulcahey's
door.
"Ah, too late, Father-too late,'
was the heartrending wall. "she died
just five minutes ago.
l stepped to the bedside and looked
down upon the dead girl. ALREADY
the peace which seems to be deaths
own secret was settling upon her toll
worn young features, and l caught g
glimpse of the little silver medal upor
her breast. I remembered it, and hel
joyous trust in its efficacy.
I dropped upon my knees a moment
and hid my face within my hands
Surely the Mother of Sorrows had not
been unmindful of her sorrowing child
Marion y. BrunolDe in Ape Maria.
III Frndarf~R As114