was ordained, he was taking his vows before the
bishop, he was a robust and consecrated priest performing his first
service, shining, it seemed to him, before the congregation in the
purity of his separation from the world. How strong he felt. And then
came perplexities, difficulties, interests, and conflicting passions
in life that he had not suspected, good that looked like evil, and evil
that had an alloy of virtue, and the way was confused. And then there
was a vision of a sort of sister of charity working with him in the evil
and the good, drawing near to him, and yet repelling him with a cold,
scientific skepticism that chilled him like blasphemy; but so patient
was she, so unconscious of self, that gradually he lost this feeling
of repulsion and saw only the woman, that wonderful creation, tender,
pitiful comrade, the other self. And then there was darkness and
blindness, and he stood once more before his congregation, speaking
words that sounded hollow, hearing responses that mocked him, stared at
by accusing eyes that knew him for a hypocrite. And he rushed away
and left them, hearing their laughter as he went, and so into the
street--plainly it was Rivington Street--and faces that he knew had a
smile and a sneer, and he heard comments as he passed "Hulloa, Father
Damon, come in and have a drink." "I say, Father Damon, I seen her going
round into Grand Street."

When Father Monies looked in, just before daylight, Father Damon was
still sleeping, but tossing restlessly and muttering incoherently; and
he did not arouse him for the early devotions.

It was very late when he awoke, and opened his eyes to a confused sense
of some great calamity. Father Monies was standing by the bedside with a
cup of coffee.

"You have had a good sleep. Now take this, and then you may get up. The
breakfast will wait for you."

Father Damon started up. "Why didn't you call me? I am late for the
mission."

"Oh, Bendes has gone down long ago. You must take it easy; rest today.
You'll be all right. You haven't a bit of fever."

"But," still declining the coffee, "before I break my fast, I have
something to say to you. I--"

"Get some strength first. Besides, I have an engagement. I cannot wait.
Pull yourself together; I may not be back before evening."

So it was fated that he should be left still with himself. After his
coffee he dressed slowly, as if it were not he, but some one else going
through this familiar duty, as if i