"I am sure of it," he replied, turning away from her gaze. "The fact is,
doctor, I am a little hipped--overworked, and all that. I shall pull
myself together with a little rest. But I wanted to tell you how much I
appreciate your work, and--and what a comfort you have been to me in my
poor labors. I used to hope that some time you would see this world in
relation to the other, and--"
"Yes, I know," she interrupted, hastily, "I cannot think as you do,
but--" And she could not go on for a great lump in her throat.
Involuntarily she rose from her seat. The interview was too trying.
Father Damon rose also. There was a moment's painful silence as they
looked in each other's faces. Neither could trust the voice for speech.
He took her hand and pressed it, and said "God bless you!" and went out,
closing the door softly.
A moment after he opened it again and stood on the threshold. She was in
her chair, her head bowed upon her arms on the table. As he spoke she
looked up, and she never forgot the expression of his face.
"I want to say, Ruth"--he had never before called her by her first name,
and his accent thrilled her--"that I shall pray for you as I pray for
myself, and though I may never see you again in this world, the greatest
happiness that can come to me in this life will be to hear that you have
learned to say Our Father which art in heaven.
Pages:
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358