The moon, struggling with the heavy drifting cloud-masses, broke through a confined ragged circle and, for a moment, its splendor shone upon the heights of The Gore; its effulgence paled the arc-lights in the quarries; a silver shaft glanced on the Rothel in its downward course, and afar touched the ruffled waters of Lake Mesantic....
"I'll stay here on the lawn," he said five minutes afterwards upon reaching the house. A light was burning in his mother's bedroom; another shone from her sitting-room on the first floor.
The priest entered without knocking; this house was open the year round to the frequent comers and goers among the workmen. He rapped at the sitting-room door. Mrs. Googe opened it.
"Why, Father Honoré, I didn't expect you to-night—didn't you have the—What is it?—oh, what is it!" she cried, for the priest's face betrayed him.
"Joyful news, Mrs. Googe,"—he let her read his face—"your son is a free man to-night."
There was no outcry on the mother's part; but her hands clasped each other till the nails showed white.
"Where is he now?"
"Here, in Flamsted—"
"Let me go—let me go to him—"