The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-09-12
Continued from Page 3D.
Dick sEYMouR's DlslLLusloN.
MENT.

O'Dea saying dreamily: "Their daily
/ Mass is their great consolation-to.
our Irish poor the Church is their.
drawing-room. as it were.''
/ Even among his intellectual friends
in town he scarcely knew one who
possessed a brain so quick or reason
ing so clear, as that of this Irish
priest. He felt his bewilderment in;
creasing. How could such clever and
well-read man cut himself off from
the world and hide himself in County
Kerry?
i 1t was almost with regret that he
saw Biddy coming up. "Well," said
Father O'Dea, there's something that
| want you to do for me, Biddy. Old
Mrs. O'Keefe seems feeble today, and
she's all alone, do you think you
!, could look in tomorrow? You know
} how glad she'd be of a visit, though
J you don't seem very grand Yourself
sSure, Father, and I'm as well as ]
!. ever shall be this side of the grave,
| and it's delighted I'll be to go over.
Lifts not real i'll that she is?" she asked
! anxiously. = j,
+ "Oh, no, said the priest reassuring-
ly. 81 think she'll be all right in day
| or two. And now goodbye to you Mr.
, Seymour, and if you walk. over to
/ Ballyrae I'lf' be charmed to see you at
/ the presbytery.
II Biddy accompanied him from the
{ house, while Seymour, with strange
!, feeling of unrest, turned into his room.
) The next day Dick shut himself up in
his room, and began to write his arti,
cle But he could not easily shake on
r the Impressions of the last few days;
: he blamed himself for what he thought
t was lamentable weakness in allowing
= his convictions to be upset by an old
!. Irish woman and priest, but at the
l same time the words would not come
Y to his pen with their Wonted ease.
/ at won't do & he said to himself bit
: terly; 81 must get this article done
g whether I believe it or not. ] shall
: soon be back in town, and then sup
: pose I shall forget it ALL ..s.
He wrote steadily for an hour, when
The was interrupted by sudden knock
at the door, and almost Immediately
Biddy entered. The rain was dripping
from her garments, and she stooe
shivering in the doorway-her breath
came quick and fast, and her eyes
lwere full of tears. Seymour pushed 2
chair hastily forward, and almosI
dragged her on to it.
''Biddy,"" he said sternly. "Wha'
: are you dreaming of to be out on
1 night like this?"
S ooh. SIR" she gasped, Mrs
= OKeefe's dying alone. Could | ash
} Won to run over to Ballyrae for his
reverence? Myfeet are so bad today
+ and then / don't like leaving the pool
: soul alone. Oh, if you will, sure ano
Our Lady herself will reward YOU" !.
His first thought had been to dash
nm his oyercoat and rush for all he
was worth for Father O'Dea, but al
most instantaneously he realized
: what such an action would signify
: and an angry feeling of impotence
came over him, as he stifled his better
o impulse. r..
; Come now," he said uneasily;
+ you're exaggerating, I'm quite sure
ooh, she's dying sir, and can't
! get to Ballyrae myself tonight. She
, shuddered as fierce blast shook the
house. Dying without the Blessed
s Sacrament"
: Seymour turned away so that the
!. piteous sight might not move him
| S1TJ... l,o "a
9 cold, hard voice; "but I'm too busy.
n He walked across to the other side
O of the room, and sat down with his
back to the door; moment later il
o closed, and he was alone He heard
! the faltering footsteps move into tht
o next room, and then all was quiet. He
? seized his pen with feverish haste ant
covered sheets of paper with inco
a herent writing. Anything to blot from
6 his memory the last sad look of the
q peasant woman.
!. He tossed his pen on the table, and
/. took up book and tried to read. The
o silence Jared on him. Where was
. Biddy, he wondered. She had probably
fallen asleep over the dying embers
a of the fire; why should he worry? Tt
l. satisfy his curiosity, however, he
s would knock at the door of the mex
e room. He tapped gently. There was
# no answer-he peeped in. 1t wa:
+ empty; she had gone. "
A sudden terrible rush of remorse
> came over him, and forgetting hat ant
6 coat in his anxiety he dashed through
r the door, into the binding rain, to
S wards Ballyrae. The wind faced hin
# and he could scarcely fight against its
1 furious strength. The blackness o.
O the autumn night almost overpowereG
n him, and he stumbled over loose stones
e more than once, and fell. Perhaps
after all, Biddy had only gone to the
h sick woman. Yet, something urged
: him on, and he continued his wiI6
]. rush through the desoIate fields. 70
s There was sudden lull in the storm
J., and gazing round TO see where hi
e was, something near at hand attracted
v his attention. huddled heap O.
) clothes near stumped tree He BEN
s i over it fearfully. 1t was Biddy. The
. moonlight shone on her almost lifeless
e face; he saw a deep bruise on hel
a forehead, where she had fallen, and
s which must have stunned her; rails