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Updated: May 4, 2025
Where a moment before Kent had felt the hot throb of an inundating joy, his heart was chilled now by the thing he sensed in Father Layonne's voice and saw in his face and eyes. It was not entirely disbelief. It was a more hopeless thing than that. "You do not believe me!" he said.
I can say it now, because I've got a right to say it. I lied. I didn't kill John Barkley!" A strange cry fell from Father Layonne's lips. It was a choking cry, a cry, not of rejoicing, but of a grief-stung thing. "Jimmy!" "I swear it! Great heaven, mon père, don't you believe me?" The missioner had risen. In his eyes and face was another look.
And I wouldn't waste much time in getting my signature on some sort of paper to that effect." Father Layonne's eyes shone softly. "God will bless you for that, Jimmy," he said, using the intimate name by which he had known him. "And I think He is going to pardon you for something else, if you have the courage to ask Him." "I am pardoned," replied Kent, looking out through the window. "I feel it.
Drop by drop the blood went out of his face until it was whiter than Father Layonne's. "You you don't mean " "Yes, yes, boy, I mean just that," said the missioner, in a voice so strange that it did not seem to be his own. "You are not going to die, Jimmy. You are going to live!" "Live!" Kent dropped back against his pillows. "LIVE!" His lips gasped the one word.
He opened his eyes, and there was a meaningless green haze through the window where the world should have been. But he heard Father Layonne's voice. It seemed a great distance off, but it was very clear. Doctor Cardigan had made an error, it was saying. And Doctor Cardigan, because of that error, was like a man whose heart had been taken out of him. But it was an excusable error.
Drop by drop the blood went out of his face until it was whiter than Father Layonne's. "You you don't mean " "Yes, yes, boy, I mean just that," said the missioner, in a voice so strange that it did not seem to be his own. "You are not going to die, Jimmy. You are going to live!" "Live!" Kent dropped back against his pillows. "Live!" His lips gasped the one word.
He opened his eyes, and there was a meaningless green haze through the window where the world should have been. But he heard Father Layonne's voice. It seemed a great distance off, but it was very clear. Doctor Cardigan had made an error, it was saying. And Doctor Cardigan, because of that error, was like a man whose heart had been taken out of him. But it was an excusable error.
Where a moment before Kent had felt the hot throb of an inundating joy, his heart was chilled now by the thing he sensed in Father Layonne's voice and saw in his face and eyes. It was not entirely disbelief. It was a more hopeless thing than that. "You do not believe me!" he said.
And I wouldn't waste much time in getting my signature on some sort of paper to that effect." Father Layonne's eyes shone softly. "God will bless you for that, Jimmy," he said, using the intimate name by which he had known him. "And I think He is going to pardon you for something else, if you have the courage to ask Him." "I am pardoned," replied Kent, looking out through the window. "I feel it.
I can say it now, because I've got a right to say it. I LIED. I didn't kill John Barkley!" A strange cry fell from Father Layonne's lips. It was a choking cry, a cry, not of rejoicing, but of a grief-stung thing. "Jimmy!" "I swear it! Great heaven, mon pere, don't you believe me?" The missioner had risen. In his eyes and face was another look.
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