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.
"My little Maureen!" he murmured. "God, my Heavenly Father, help me. Can it be possible that what the woman says is true—that terrible woman, whom once I loved and—and married? Oh, my God, to have to face Maurice, my dearest brother, and tell him about little Maureen."
Just then a light touch rested on the stricken man's shoulder. He raised his face and saw with astonishment his young son Dominic beside him.
"Dad," said Dominic, "Maureen and I were talking together about you. You can't imagine, dad, how lovely the air is outside. We were a bit anxious about you—Maureen and I—and (as 'herself' was away) we thought—Maureen and I did—that you might come out and lie on the thick rug with a pile of pillows under your head. You know the spot I mean. It is where the periwinkles grow and the tall trees shelter us from the hottest rays of the sun. Well, it was a little plan we made between us, Maureen and I; but when I came to fetch you—I'm not ashamed to own it, dearest old dad,—but the door was a bit open, and I heard voices and I listened. 'Herself' had come back and I heard her say that she would do nothing at all for Maureen; then I heard you say, you blessed man, that you would, when the time came, divide all your own money between Kitty and Maureen and Denis and myself. You will do it, won't you, dear dad?"
"Yes, my son, if it is possible."
"But how can it not be possible when we all wish it?" asked the boy.
"Listen, Dominic. Perhaps you had no right to overhear, but on the other hand perhaps God meant it. Anyhow you are on my side now."
"Dad, tell me the very truth. You are not really ill?"