In the meantime Lennon's family had not been improving in circumstances. Emon was losing all the high wages of the spring's work. Upon one or two occasions, when he stealthily endeavored to do a little on his own land, while his father was catching the ready penny abroad, he found, before he was two hours at work, the haunting idea press upon his brain; and he returned to the house and threw himself upon the bed confused and sad. In spite of this, however, the wound in his head was now progressing more favorably, and returning strength renewed a more cheerful spirit within him. He fought hard against the idea which at times forced itself upon him. The priest, who was a constant visitor, saw that all was not yet right. He took Emon kindly by the hand and said: "My dear young friend, do you not feel as well as your outward condition would indicate that you ought to be?"
"Yes, Father Farrell, I thank God I feel my strength almost perfectly restored. I shall be able, I hope, to give my poor father the usual help in a few days. The worst of it is that the throng of the spring work is over, and wages are now down a third from what they were a month or three weeks ago."
"If that be all that is fretting you, Emon, cheer up, for there is plenty of work still to be had; and if the wages are not quite so high as they were a while back, you shall have constant work for some time, which will be better than high wages for a start. I can myself afford to make up for some of the loss this unfortunate blow has caused you. You must accept of this." And he pulled a pound-note from his breeches pocket.
If occasionally there were moments when Emon's ideas were somewhat confused, they were never clearer or sharper than as Father Farrell said this. It so happened that he was thinking of Winny Cavana at the moment; indeed, it would be hard to hit upon the moment when he was not. Shanvilla was proverbially a poor parish; and Father Farrell's continual and expressed regret was, that he was not able personally to do more for the poor of his flock. Emon was sharp enough, and stout enough, to speak his mind even to his priest, when he found it necessary.
He looked inquiringly into Father Farrell's face. "No, Father Farrell, you cannot afford it," he said. "It is your kindness leads you to say so; and if you could afford it there are--and no man knows it better than you do--many still poorer families than ours in the parish requiring your aid. But under no circumstances shall I touch that pound."
The priest was found out, and became disconcerted; but the matter was coming to a point, and he might as well have it out.
"Why do you lay such an emphasis upon the word that?" said he. "It is a very good one," he added, laughing.
"Well, Father Farrell, I am always ready and willing to answer you any questions you may choose to ask me, for you are always discreet and considerate. Of course I must always answer any questions you have a right to ask; but you have no right to probe me now."
"Certainly not, Emon, but you know a counsel's no command."
"Your counsel, Father Farrell, is always good, and almost amounts to a command. I beg your pardon, if I have spoken hastily."