"You may come upstairs, too, Jean," she invited, "and from the front room there, you can watch for yours."
"Oh, Mrs. Merley, you make me happier than I have been for a long time," he said, and almost was he emotional.
"And I have a nice spare bedroom for you and her, tonight. And tomorrow, she is yours."
Jean Baptiste waited and watched, and then suddenly he heard a voice. It was that of the girl who had admitted him, who was also watching.
"Here she comes," she cried, excitedly. Jean Baptiste looked quickly out of the window and up the street, and saw his wife coming leisurely toward the house wherein he was sitting.
CHAPTER XIV
OH, MERCIFUL GOD, CLOSE THOU MINE EYES!
REVEREND NEWTON JUSTINE MCCARTHY had once lived in Peoria, Illinois, and was well acquainted with the late Robert Ingersoll. Moreover, he had admired the noted orator, and although he had not the courage, in truth, he believed as Ingersoll believed. And because he did, and was forced to keep his true convictions a secret, while he preached the gospel he did not believe, he had grown to hate almost all people. But N.J. McCarthy was not aware of this fact himself.
Ever since he brought his daughter home, and had thereby parted her from the man she married, he had never been the same. Always he was troubled with something he could not understand. His dreams were bad. The awful sensations he very often experienced while in slumber, grew so annoying that at times he found that he was almost afraid to sleep. Then, a persistent illness continually knocked at his door. The truth of it was, that he was battling with a conscience he had for years crucified. But it would persist. So deep had he sowed the habits he followed, and so intrenched were the roots of these habits, until it was no easy task to uproot them.