"Constance, you can speak like that to a dying man. May God forgive your cold heart. Once, Constance, I thought you both beautiful and good; I was even fool enough to think there was something of the angel about you. Alas, I quickly learnt my mistake. Now, Constance, I will tell you plainly that my children and Maureen share and share alike."
"Ah," said Mrs. O'Brien, with a sort of groan, "how very stupid and silly you are, Patrick; but when you talk with Mr. Murphy he will tell you a very different story."
"Listen to me, Constance," continued the Rector, "I know well that I have not long to live, but I may hold out for a few years. My boys, my girl, and I will provide for Maureen. I never told you how she came into the family."
"You did not; but I cannot wait to hear your romantic story now. I may miss Mr. Murphy."
"Constance, you must wait. It will not take up five minutes of your time. My little brown-eyed Maureen came to me in this fashion. I had a twin-brother. I loved him better than myself. The thought of meeting him again is one of the joys I look forward to; he died of wounds received in the field of battle. His young wife had died before him, and he left his little child, Maureen, to me. I brought her up as my own. The boys look upon her as their sister. Kitty does the same. Little Maureen came to the Rectory, and since then her sweetness and innocence have helped me to bear the greatest sorrow of my life--the loss of that brother who was dearer to me than myself. Now you can go, Constance, but Maureen shall be provided for."
"You are about the most silly, out-of-the-world person I ever came across," said Mrs. O'Brien. "Well, let me tell you that your story about yourself and your twin-brother does not affect me in the least. When you die, Maureen has to earn her living--or go to the workhouse. Well, you know the truth. As to upsetting your marriage settlement, it cannot be done. Ta-ta. I may not be back until very late. I was always outspoken, and shall be to my dying day."
The overdressed woman turned swiftly and left the room.
Softly, very softly, Dominic hid himself behind a shabby old screen in the narrow passage which led to the Rector's study. Mrs. O'Brien was soon returning to Kingsala, and Mr. O'Brien, feeling himself alone, weak and suffering, laid his head on his hands and groaned aloud.