The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-02-22

don't care a bit about having another
ceremony, but my father is simply set
upon it, and you know cannot contra.
dict him. Besides, it is now too late
Matters are all arranged. Now, Ann,
brighten up, for, after all, what diff
ference does it maker"
Just this difference" said the girl;
here is your ring"
Williams was thunderstruck. He had
never dreamt of such an issue. His
father had convinced him that this
Popish girl whom he intended to make
partaker of his fortunes, would con-
nive at anything proposed, but here
she stood firm as rock in her refusal.
Annie" he said at last, how
could you ever say you really cared
for me and then break so sacred an
engagement in this manner?"
How could you, in whom | trusted
implicitly, deceive me in such man
ner? You knew all along that this
was simply impossible for me, or, per-
haps, you thought I'd prefer you and
your money to my religion. No, How
ard, | love you, but love God more,
Iimmeasurably more. Goodnight"
The girl was gone in an instant, and
Williams stood alone in the little par
lor, scarcely knowing what had hap
pened.
Annie ran up the stairs and into her
room She reeled, but caught hold of
the table, then sank into chair and
buried her face in her hands. The
blood shot into her head, the cold
sweat stood on her forehead. Great
God" she moaned. Great God, what
has happened? She experienced a
feeling of intense physical weakness.
She tried to think, but could not. She
was unconcious of loneliness, of un-
utterable misery and anguish. For
moment she imagined it was all o
hideous dream; but the bare walls of
the cherries room, the old trunk over
against the wall, brought her back to
the cold reality. The trip, the cottage
out in Woodlawn, Howard, her lover
all-all was passed-nothing but a
memory, a memory that could only
torture. She sank down upon the
bed in utter exhaustion and felt that
her life was wrecked, her joy passed
| forever; but still her whitened lips
murmured, the words of Father Dono-
van: annie, our faith is precious, far
too precious to risk
The clock had just struck twelve
when the telephone rang with vehe-
mence in st. Agnes rectory. Father
Donovan was an old man with gray
hair and stiff limbs, but when duty
called he seemed to grow young again;
so that in few moments he was
hurrying through the deserted streets.
"Cliff-street," he soliloquized, II won
der who is sick there?" He turned
the next corner and espied the bright
lanterns of the doctors automobile be-
fore the house designated. Hurrying
through the dark hall, he was met on
the stairs by the doctor.
Better hurry, Father, bad attack,
Hemorrhage. Yes, came very sudden
ly."
Father Donovan entered the room.
He drew near the bed and looked into
the pale face of a young girl. The
heaps of blood-stained handkerchiefs
at the foot of the bed told their grue-
some story. The priest took the hand
of the girl; she opened her eyes The
old priest started. Annie, Annie,
poor child, is that you! Why, Annie,
h. UI01~oclo1y
There will be another wedding
soon, Father" and her finger pointed
heavenward. "You needn't worry,
Father; there will be no mixed mar
riage Wednesday evening, found it
out in time, Father. No, won't re-
nounce my faith for any one. Will
liams wanted Protestant ceremony,
you know, Father, and l couldn't do
that. l gave him back his ring; it
was terribly hard to do, Father, and
it broke me down entirely; but I'm
glad; Father Dan, I'm glad I brought
the sacrifice"
The old priest could not hide his
emotion. You're a good girl, Annie,
you are indeed; but, child, you are in
dangerous condition, you must know.
Would you be satisfied to bring yet
another sacrifice?"
The pale face frightened "You
mean to ask me, Father, if want to
go to Heaven"
Tears rolled down the wrinkled
cheeks of Father Donovan, when, af-
ter the holy viaticum he watched the
pure soul of Annie Morton slowly
ebbing into eternity. When the first
sunbeams entered the room, Father
Donovan rose to leave-the fight was
over.
1t was hard to tell whether grief or
anger was uppermost in the soul of
good Mrs. Hennesy, for in the midst
of her tears she kept on inveighing
against that miserable Protestant"
who broke the heart of this dear girl.
But the priest looked about the room,
at the trunk packed and strapped, at
the preparations for the wedding, then
at the peaceful face on the pillow.
"Jesu Corona Virginum," he breathed,
and his heart leaped with joy at the
thought of the nuptials which even
now another bridegroom was celebrat-
ing with the faithful soul of Annie
Morton.
Father Siomund Crate, q. M Cap.
in the West Australian Record.