eviewed the case, I
believe you are right,' said he. What do you think of my mission, Mr.
Green?"

"With you, I consider it not altogether a failure," the clergyman
answered; then, as an afterthought, "If all Roman Catholics were like
you, we would all be Roman Catholics."

"There are many better than I, and a few worse. You must make allowances
for the weaknesses of human nature," the priest answered. "Come inside
now and play bridge."

"Did you see Desmond O'Connor on your way home?" asked Dr. Marsh.

Molly Healy, from her secluded place, strained her ears to catch her
brother's answer.

"Naturally I did," he said. "Desmond is a great man now, a partner in
the firm of Jackson and Company, and coining money, they tell me."

With this he intended to content them, but Dr. Marsh asked,
inquisitively:

"Did you bring him back to your Church?"

"I did not try. There are seasons to speak and seasons to say nothing.
It was not the time to argue with him."

"Why not the time? You could have put him on the broad of his back,"
said Dr. Marsh.

"To what purpose? I was not there to quarrel with him. The boy will come
round.... Let us get to bridge!"

Molly Healy, in the quiet of the garden, turned her eyes towards the
dark, limitless ocean. She could not see it, but its droning was in her
ears. To it she often turned in her moments of depression, when she
walked in those lower depths of melancholy that are occasional with
natures which mount to the heights of happiness and merriment. It seemed
to her that the ocean was responsive to her moods, that it answered back
her mirth, and whispered sadly when she was depressed. Looking towards
it now, she whispered:

"Desmond O'Connor will win through. Sure, I will start Bridget Malone
praying for him. They say she never failed to get what she asked for."

Therewith she followed the men inside, to find them playing their game
in the silence of strict bridge.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THROUGH THE GORGE.

Kathleen O'Connor had been spending the day with Mrs. Sheridan, and was
returning slowly, laden with the gossip of the countryside, her rein
hanging loosely on Douglas' neck.

She had many things to trouble her young mind at that moment. The
thought of Desmond was always with her; she could not reconcile herself
to his professed want of faith. Though Father Healy told her to have no
fear, and Mrs. Quirk bade her trust in God, she carried a heavy heart
for her brother.