so I only
opened his hand (easy enough to do, for the grip was gone from it) and
said:

"You're an old man, sir, and you're a sick man--don't tempt me to forget
that you are the father of Mary O'Neill. Sit down."

He sat down, breathless and broken, without another word. But the
Bishop, with a large air of outraged dignity, faced about to poor Father
Dan (who was standing near the door, turning his round hat in his
trembling hands) and said:

"Father Donovan, did you know that Mr. O'Neill was very ill?"

"I did, Monsignor," said Father Dan.

"And that a surgeon is coming from London to perform an operation upon
him--did you know that?"

"I did, Monsignor."

"Did you know also that I was here to-night to attend with Mr. Curphy to
important affairs and perhaps discharge some sacred duties?"

"I knew that too, Monsignor."

"Then," said the Bishop, pointing at me, "how dare you bring this man
here--this man of all others, who has been the chief instrument in
bringing shame and disgrace upon our poor sick friend and his deeply
injured family?"

"So that's how you look at it, is it, Monsignor?"

"Yes, sir, that is how I look at it, and I am sorry for a priest of my
Church who has so weakened his conscience by sympathy with notorious
sinners as to see things in any other light."

"Sinners, Bishop?"

"Didn't you hear me, Father Donovan? Or do you desire me to use a harder
name for them--for one of them in particular, on whom you have wasted so
much weak sentimentality, to the injury of your spiritual influence and
the demoralisation of your parish. I have warned you already. Do you
wish me to go further, to remove you from your Presbytery, or perhaps
report your conduct to those who have power to take the frock off your
back? What standard of sanctity for the sacrament of Holy Matrimony do
you expect to maintain while you degrade it by openly associating with a
woman who has broken her marriage vows and become little better . . . I
grieve to say it [with a deep inclination of the head towards the poor
wreck in the elbow-chair] little better than a common. . . ."

I saw the word that was coming, and I was out in an instant. But there
was somebody before me. It was Father Dan. The timid old priest seemed
to break in one moment the bonds of a life-long tyranny.

"What's that you say, Monsignor?" he cried in a shrill voice. "_I_
degrade the sacrament of Holy Matrimony? Never in this world! But if
there's anybod