"You mean to say my mother—my mother, Aurora Googe, has been keeping a quarrymen's boarding-house all these years?"
"Yes; it is legitimate work."
"My mother—my mother—" he kept repeating as he stood motionless on the bridge. He seemed unable to grasp the fact for a moment; then he laid his hand heavily on Father Honoré's shoulder as if for support; he spoke low to himself, but the priest caught a few words:
"I thank Thee—thank—for life—work—"
He seemed to come gradually to himself, to recognize his whereabouts. He began to walk on, but very slowly.
"Father Honoré," he said, and his tone was deeply earnest but at the same time almost joyful, "I'm not going home to my mother empty-handed, I never intended to—I have work. I can work for her, free her from care, lift from her shoulders the burden of toil for my sake."
"What do you mean, Champney?"
"I made application to the manager of the Company this afternoon; I saw they were all strangers to me, and they took me on in the sheds—Shed Number Two. I went to work this afternoon. You see I know my trade; I learned it during the last six years. I can support her now—Oh—"
He stopped short just as they were leaving the bridge; raised his head to the black skies above him, reached upwards with both hands palm outwards—
"—I thank my Maker for these hands; I thank Him that I can labor with these hands; I thank Him for the strength of manhood that will enable me to toil with these hands; I thank Him for my knowledge of good and evil; I thank Him that I have 'won sight out of blindness—'" his eyes strained to the skies above The Gore.