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Updated: June 14, 2025
Two more years had gone by when a letter arrived from England to tell George Harvey that he was the heir to £12,000. Burrowes had kept all his influence over the young farmer, and he was actually able to persuade Harvey to devote this fortune to founding the Order of St. George for mission work among soldiers.
The Father Superior gave Mark his blessing and dismissed him. Nothing had been said about the dispute between the Prior and the Chaplain, and Mark began to wonder if Father Burrowes thought the results of it would tell more surely in favour of his own influence if he did not allude to it nor make any attempt to adjudicate upon the point at issue.
Mark remembered now that there had been a question at one time of Father Burrowes' opening a priory in the next parish to St. Agnes'. Probably that was the reason why Father Rowley disapproved of him. Mark had heard the monk preach on one occasion and had liked him.
Then he raised his head and looked into the dark face of the native chief. Its set, savage expression gave him confidence. "Plenty missionaries get killed. Some day in about a week after I have gone away in the schooner, you will take the missionary and his wife to the little bush town, that Peter and Burrowes tell me he goes to sometimes. They will sleep there that night.
He wasted no time in letting the Father Superior know that he was going to leave; in fact he told him after he had confessed to him before making his Communion on Easter Thursday. "I'm sorry to lose you, my dear boy," said Father Burrowes. "Very sorry. We are just going to open a priory in London, though that is a secret for the moment, please. Yes, some kind friends have given us a house in Soho.
I suppose it's just possible that some bishop will accept me for ordination from Malford, though no doubt it's improbable. This will be a matter to discuss with Father Burrowes later. Do forgive what looks like a most erratic course of procedure. But I really should hate a long discussion, and if I make a mistake I shall have had a lesson. It really is essential for me to be tremendously occupied.
Then with trembling feet but brave heart he walked unsteadily along after the trader and his burden. So far, no sound had reached him since that one dreadful cry smote upon his ear, and a hope began to rise in his breast that no immediate danger threatened. A short distance away, embowered among the trees, was the house of Burrowes.
He turned irritably, but beamed in a distrait sort of manner when he perceived the source of the interruption. "Who him?" he said in answer to Sally's whispered question. "He's just one of Bugs' sparring-partners." "But..." Mr. Burrowes, fussy now that the time had come for action, interrupted her. "You'll excuse me, miss, but I have to hold the watch. We mustn't waste any time." Sally drew back.
"All right," he said, bored. His languor left him, as his gaze fell on Sally again, and his spirits revived somewhat. After all, small though the numbers of spectators might be, bright eyes would watch and admire him. "I'll go a couple of rounds with Reddy for a starter," he said. "Seen him anywheres? He's never around when he's wanted." "I'll fetch him," said Mr. Burrowes.
Nicholas, you ain't going'? Bugs is just getting ready to spar." He glanced inquiringly at Sally. "My sister Mr. Burrowes," said Fillmore faintly. "Mr. Burrowes is Bugs Butler's manager." "How do you do?" said Sally. "Pleased to meecher," said Mr. Burrowes. "Say..." "I was just going to the hotel to get something to eat," said Fillmore. Mr.
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