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Updated: May 17, 2025
In the other part of the town, however, everything was quiet enough, and none would think of offending his pastor by showing any interest in Father Ilwin, financially or otherwise. Father Ilwin said nothing; but do you wonder that one day when a generous gift was announced from "the Rev.
Shakespeare that when Father Ilwin failed to do well, he grew gloomy and sad; and just as naturally God help us there was enough of human nature in Father Tom to say, "I told you so" to himself, and to have him pity Father Ilwin to others in that superior sort of way that cuts and stings more than a whip of scorpions.
It is not for me to criticize Father Tom, whom every poor person in the town loved as a father; only I did feel sorry that poor Father Ilwin grew so thin and worn, and that his building work was stopped, and people did not seem to sympathize with him, at all, at all.
"Ilwin, me lad, I don't think I've treated ye just as a priest and Christian should but I thought I was right. I know now that I wasn't. Ilwin, we can build that church and we will. Here are a thousand dollars as a start to show that I mean it. There'll be a collection for you in St. Patrick's next Sunday. After that I intind going about with ye. I think I know where we can get some more."
Now, there lived in the same town as Father Tom another priest of quite a different make. He, too, had a Christian name. It was Peter; but no one ever called him Father Peter. Every one addressed him as Father Ilwin. Somehow this designation alone fitted him. It was not that this other priest was unkind not at all but it was just that in Father Tom's town he did not quite fit.
Father Tom said: "Sure, I had no idea that you knew one another." "Yes, indeed, we do," cried the child. "Why, uncle, it was Father Peter who converted me." Father Tom heard, but did not say a word. It was only three days later when Father Tom stood in the miserable little room that Father Ilwin called his library.
Father Ilwin had been sent by the Bishop to build a new church, and that on a slice of Father Tom's territory, which the Bishop lopped off to form a new parish. Father Ilwin was young. He had no rich brogue on his tongue to charm you into looking at his coat in expectation of seeing his big heart burst out to welcome you.
Then, when Father Tom spoke to some of his people of Father Ilwin's poor success and said, "He meant well, good lad," they all praised the soft, kind heart of Father Tom; but when Father Ilwin heard of this great kindness he just shut his lips tightly, and all the blood was chased from his set face to grip his heart in a spell of resentment. Why?
He left with Kathleen when the funeral was over. His nephew accompanied them to the train and said with unction: "Good-bye, brother, I shall pray for you," and Father Tom groaned down to his heart of hearts. Father Ilwin was at the train when Father Tom and his niece arrived home, though quite by accident. Kathleen's eyes danced when she saw him and she rushed to shake hands.
Of course, people did say that Father Ilwin was ungracious and unappreciative; yet, as I write, much as I like Father Tom, I have a tear in my eye for the lonely man who knew well that the only obstacle to his success was the one that people never could see, and that the obstacle himself was never likely to see. But let us go on.
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