But a
change had come over Corporal Shon McGann. He looked at Father Corraine
with concern and perplexity. He alone of those who were there had caught
the unreal note in the proceedings. His eyes were bent on the darkness
into which the men had gone, and his fingers toyed for an instant with
his whistle; but he said a hard word of himself under his breath, and
turned to meet Father Corraine's hand upon his arm.
"Shon McGann," the priest said, "I have words to say to you concerning
this poor girl,"
"You wish to have her taken to the Fort, I suppose? What was she doing
with Pretty Pierre?"
"I wish her taken to her home."
"Where is her home, father?" And his eyes were cast with trouble on the
girl, though he could assign no cause for that.
"Her home, Shon,"--the priest's voice was very gentle--"her home was
where they sing such words as these of a wanderer:
"'You'll hear the wild birds singin' beneath a brighter sky,'
The roof-tree of your home, dear, it will be grand and high;
But you'll hunger for the hearthstone where a child you used to lie,
You'll be comin' back, my darlin'."'
During these words Shon's face ran white, then red; and now he stepped
inside the door like one in a dream, and the girl's face was lifted to
his as though he had called her.
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