"There are blasphemies coming. Shall I read on?"
"Yes."
He began again, a little spot of red coming into either cheek:
"Hell ain't none too bad for me, I know. I ain't whining none. I just lie here and watch the world getting dimmer until I begin to be seeing things out of my past. That shows the devil ain't losing no time with me. But the thing that comes back oftenest and hits me the hardest is the sight of your mother, lying with you in the hollow of her arm and looking up at me and whispering, 'Dad,' just before she went out."
The hand of the boy fell, and his wide eyes sought the face of Father Victor. The latter was standing.
"You told me I had no father—"
An imperious arm stretched toward him.
"Give me the letter."
He moved to obey, and then checked himself.
"This is my father's writing, is it not?"