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Henry, O., 1862-1910

"Whirligigs"

It seems
so often that Heaven lets fall its choicest gifts into hands that must
be taught to hold them. Listen again. You forgot that repentant sin
must not compromise, but look up, for redemption, to the purest and
best. You went to her with the fine-spun sophistry that peace could be
found in a mutual guilt; and she, fearful of losing what her heart so
craved, thought it worth the price to buy it with a desperate, pure,
beautiful lie. I have known her since the day she was born; she is as
innocent and unsullied in life and deed as a holy saint. In that
lowly street where she dwells she first saw the light, and she has
lived there ever since, spending her days in generous self-sacrifice
for others. Och, ye spalpeen!" continued Father Rogan, raising his
finger in kindly anger at Lorison. "What for, I wonder, could she be
after making a fool of hersilf, and shamin' her swate soul with lies,
for the like of you!"
"Sir," said Lorison, trembling, "say what you please of me. Doubt it
as you must, I will yet prove my gratitude to you, and my devotion to
her. But let me speak to her once now, let me kneel for just one
moment at her feet, and--"
"Tut, tut!" said the priest. "How many acts of a love drama do you
think an old bookworm like me capable of witnessing? Besides, what
kind of figures do we cut, spying upon the mysteries of midnight
millinery! Go to meet your wife to-morrow, as she ordered you, and
obey her thereafter, and maybe some time I shall get forgiveness for
the part I have played in this night's work.


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