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Updated: June 25, 2025
Never had Helbeck been filled with such a tender and hopeful joy as in the hours that followed this scene between them. Father Leadham arrived in time for dinner. Laura treated him with a gentleness, even a sweetness, that from the first moment filled the Jesuit with a secret astonishment. She was very pale; her exhaustion was evident.
But dig all over the world dig everywhere lay it all bare. Then you may ask me to listen to you!" The little round-faced priest looked round the table for support. Laura bit her lip and bent over her plate. Father Leadham turned hastily to Helbeck, and began to discuss with him a recent monograph on the Roman Wall, showing a plentiful and scholarly knowledge of the subject.
"Not 'Lives of the Saints, I think, and not 'Catechisms' or 'Outlines. Just a building up from the beginning by somebody who found it hard, very hard, to believe and yet did believe. But Father Leadham will know of course he would know." Helbeck was silent. It suddenly appeared to him the strangest, the most incredible conversation.
Spooner," said the young doctor, cheerfully. "I feel in my bones, sir, that Sissy Leadham won't die." And it may be added here that she didn't. At the ranch-house that night Ajax and I sat up, watching, waiting, praying for the rain that would wash the diphtheria from Paradise and despair from our hearts.
A little Catholic manual of Church history had fallen into his hands that morning. His fingers played with it as it lay on the table, and with the pages of a magazine beside it that contained an article by Father Leadham. No doubt some common element in the two had roused him. "The Catholic war with history," he said, "is perennial!
When she raised her eyes they fell upon Helbeck's dark head in the far distance, above his server's cotta. A quick change crossed her face, transforming it to a passionate contempt. But of her no one thought save once. The beautiful "moment" of the ceremony had come. Father Leadham had raised the monstrance, containing the Host, to give the Benediction.
Helbeck to Father Leadham on the subject of a ghost story that had sprung up during the Squire's memory in connection with the park and the house a quite modern story, according to Helbeck, turning on the common motive of a gypsy woman and her curse, started some forty years before this date, with a local success not a little offensive, apparently, to the owner of Bannisdale.
The last mental phrase was not so much his own as an echo from Father Leadham. In Helbeck's mind it was spoken very much as the priest had spoken it with that strange tenderness, at once so intimate and so impersonal, which belongs to the spiritual relations of Catholicism. The girl's soul lonely, hostile, uncared for appealed to the charity of the believer.
Every Sister, every child, except a few small and tired ones, was bowed in humblest adoration. Mr. Helbeck, too, was kneeling in the little choir. But his attention wandered. With the exception of his walk with Father Leadham, he had been in church since early morning, and even for him response was temporarily exhausted. His look strayed over the chapel. It was suddenly arrested.
'He always comes here when I am away, said Lady Carbury. 'That has been an accident. He could not have known that you were going to Messrs. Leadham and Loiter's. 'I'm not so sure of that, Hetta. 'Then, mamma, you must have told him yourself, and I don't think you knew till just before you were going. But, mamma, what does it matter? He has been here, and I have told him
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