I do not think it was personal , or the sense of personal shame, or of further exposure, that really Father Letheby during these days, so much as the ever-recurring thought that his own ignominy would reflect on the great body to which he belonged. He knew how and how unscrupulous was the spirit of criticism in our days; and with what fatal facility the weaknesses and misfortunes of one priest would be supposed, in the distorted mirrors of popular beliefs, to be reflected upon and the entire sacred profession. And it was an intolerable thought that, perhaps in far distant years, his example would be quoted as evidence of or something worse on the part of the Irish priesthood. "When Letheby wasted hundreds of pounds belonging to the shopkeepers of Kilkeel," or, "Don't you remember Letheby of Galway, and the boat that was sunk?" "What was his doing?" "Oh, he compelled him to leave the diocese!" These were the phrases, coined from the future, that were flung by a too or too anxious imagination at his head; and if the of religion healed the wounds rapidly, there were ugly cicatrices left behind, which showed themselves in little patches of silver here and there in his hair, and the tiny fretwork of wrinkles in his forehead and around his mouth. Then, whilst speaking, he grew frequently abstracted, and would start and : "I beg pardon! I didn't quite catch what you were saying." Then I understood that he had nights as well as troublous days; and all the time I was powerless to help him, though I to be able to do so. What was most was the complete silence of Father Duff and his contemporaries during these days of trial, and the contemptuous and uncharitable criticisms that reached me, but did not reach Father Letheby, from quondam admirers and friends.  
"Sure, we knew well how it would all turn out! These Utopian schemes generally do end in failure."
 
"If he had only followed the beaten track, there was every of success before him; for, mind you, he had a fair share of ability."
 
"I wonder what will the bishop do?"
 
"I dare say he'll withdraw and ask him to seek a mission abroad."
 
"Well, it is a warning to the other young fellows, who were to follow him."
 
I was hoping that the return of Bittra and Ormsby would wean him away from his anxiety. But this, too, was pitiful and sad beyond words. I ventured to go see her the morning after their arrival. Ormsby came into the drawing-room first, and told me all particulars of their journey, and prepared me to see a great change in his young wife. Nevertheless, I was startled to see what a a few days' agony had caused. Bittra had a curious habit of holding her face , like a child, when she ; and this innocent, habit, so typical of her and openness of mind, was now by the look of blank and utter despair that had crept over her. If she had wept freely, or been , it would have been a relief; but no! she appeared dazed, and as if stricken into stone by the magnitude of her sorrow; and all the little accidents of home life,—the furniture, the gardens, her father's room and his wardrobe, his few books, his fishing-rods and fowling-pieces,—all were souvenirs of one whose place could not be filled in her soul, and whose end, unsupported by the ministrations of religion, made the tender and spirit of his child think of possibilities which no one can without a . How different the Catholic from the non-Catholic soul! What an intense of and the future of its spirits in the one! How and indifferent to that is the other! What an awful idea of God's justice in the one! What cool contempt for God's dispensations in the other! And how the one realizes the bursting of bonds and the setting free of the immortal spirit unto the vast environments and accidents of life, whilst the other sees but dead clay with some dim ideas of a shadowy and problematical eternity! "His soul! his soul!" Here was the burden of Bittra's grief. Ormsby could not understand it; he was frightened and bewildered. I tried every word of , every principle of hope, that are our inheritance, only to realize that—
 
"Not all the preaching since Adam
Can make Death other than Death!"
Then I took her out into the yard, and placed her where her father had stood on the morning of her marriage, and where he heard "the Mass of his sad life ringing coldly to its end." I repeated every word he said,—his , his faith, his determination for a future, his regret that he was not with her on the morning of her Communion, his promise to be at Communion the Sunday after they returned from the Continent. "And here," I said, "he stood when the Angelus rang, and, taking off his hat, reverentially said it; and I counted the silver in his hair. And do you think, you little infidel, that our great Father has not numbered the hairs of his head also—ay, and the deep yearnings of his heart?"
 
She looked relieved.
 
"Come now," I said, "put on your hat and let us see Dolores. She knows eternity better than you or I."
 
"May I ask Rex to come with us?"
 
"Certainly," as I thought what a merciful dispensation it was that a new love had been implanted where an old love was rudely snatched away.
 
"And Dr. Armstrong? He journeyed down from Dublin with us."
 
"Of course. He intends, I believe, to see Alice professionally."
 
"Yes. He is to arrange for a with our doctor."
 
"Very good. We shall all go together."
 
So we did. And I had the to see these two ones their tears in the that was held to them to drink.
 
"One little word, Father Dan," said Alice, as I departed. "I don't mind Mrs. Ormsby. There is to be no operation, you promised me."
 
"No, my dear child, don't think of that. You will be treated with the greatest and tenderness."
 
The result of the made next day was a curious one. It was quite true that her poor body was one huge sore; even the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet were not . But Dr. Armstrong made light of this.
 
"I cannot promise to make her as handsome as I am told she was," he said; "but I can restore her health by powerful and good food. That's no trouble. I've seen worse cases at least cured. But the poor girl is paralyzed from the down, and that is beyond human skill."
 
Here was a revelation. I told Alice about it after the doctors had left. She only said "Thank God!" But Dr. Armstrong's predictions were verified. Slowly, very slowly, in a few weeks, the external symptoms of the dread disease disappeared, until the face and forehead became healed, and only a red mark, which time would wear off, remained. And her general strength came back, day by day, as fresh blood drove out all that was and unwholesome, and even her hair began to grow, first in wisps, then in strong, curls, whilst a curious, spiritual beauty seemed to her features, until she looked, to my eyes, like the little Alice I had worshipped as a child. In a mysterious way, also, Alice and Bittra seemed to pass into each other's souls; and as the thorns and fell away from each young brow and heart, little roses of Divine love, reflected in human sympathy and fellowship, seemed to , and throw out their tender leaves, until the Rose of Love took the place of the red Roses of Pain; and Time, the Healer, threw farther back, day by day, the memories of trials , and in its bitterness to the sweetness of resignation. And when, one day in the late autumn, when all the leaves were reddening beneath the frosts of night and the hushed, hidden grays of sombre days, Alice was rolled to the door of her cottage, and saw the old, familiar objects again; and the children clustered around her bath-chair with all kinds of presents of lovely flowers and purple and golden fruits; and as the poor, pale stretched out her thin hands to the sky, and drew in long of pure, sweet air, she trembled under the joy of her resurrection, and seemed to doubt whether, after all, her close little room, and the weary bed, and her own dread cross, and her crucifix, were not better. But now she understood that this recovery of hers was also God's holy will, and she bowed her head in thankfulness and wept tears of joy.
 
"This is the end," said he, mournfully. "I have written the bishop, demanding my exeat."
 
"It is bad, very bad," I replied.
 
"I suppose the Kilkeel gentlemen will come next," he said, "and then the bailiffs."
 
"The whole thing is melancholy," I replied; "it is one of those cases which a man requires all his and grace to meet."
 
"Well, I made a complete sacrifice of myself this morning at Mass," he said, down his emotion; "but I didn't anticipate this blow from on high. Nevertheless, I don't for a moment regret or withdraw. What is that you quote about suffering:—
 
'... aspera, sed nutrix hominum bona'?
I'll make arrangements now to sell off everything, and then for
 
'Larger burning, moons, and happy skies,
Breadths of tropic shade, and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise.'
But the name I leave behind me—Letheby!—Letheby! It will go down from generation to generation—a word of warning against shame and defeat. Dear me! how different the world looked twelve months ago! Who would have foreseen this? And I was growing so fond of my work, and my little home, and my books, and my , and—and—the children!"
 
"Alice and Bittra have been pulled out of the fire unscathed," I said feebly. "Why may not you?"
 
"Ay, but they had physical and domestic troubles," he said; "but how can you get over disgrace?"
 
"That, too, may be overcome," I replied. "Is there not something about ' hominum et abjectio plebis,' in ?"
 
"True," he said, "there it is. I am forever grasping at two remedies, or rather supports—work, work, work, and the Example you have quoted; and sometimes they swing me up over the and then let me down into the abysses. It is a regular see-saw of and despair!"
 
"Let me know, when you have heard from the bishop," I said; "somehow I believe that all will come right yet."
 
"No, no, Father Dan," he said, "it is only your good nature which you mistake for a happy . Look out for a new curate."
 
 
The events of the afternoon, indeed, did not promise favorably for my forecast. About three o'clock, whilst Father Letheby was absent, a side-car drove into the village, from which two men alighted; and having made , proceeded to Father Letheby's house, and told the bewildered and frightened Lizzie that they had come to take possession. Lizzie, like a good Irish girl, stormed and raged, and went for the police, and threatened the of the Superior Courts, at which they laughed and proceeded to settle themselves comfortably in the kitchen. Great fear fell, then, upon the village, and great smouldered in many breasts; and, as surely as if they had lighted beacon-fires, or sent mounted couriers far and wide, the evil news was flashed into the remotest mountain nooks and down to the hermitages of the fishermen. And there was wrath, feeble and impotent, for here was the law, and behind the law was the of England.
 
What Father Letheby endured that............