"Mary--Mary Callen!" he cried. His
arms spread out, then dropped to his side, and he fell on his knees by
the table facing her, and looked at her with love and horror warring in
his face; for the remembrance that she had been with Pierre was like the
hand of the grave upon him. Moving not at all, she looked at him, a numb
despondency in her face. Suddenly Shon's look grew stern, and he was
about to rise; but Father Corraine put a hand on his shoulder, and said:
"Stay where you are, man--on your knees. There is your place just now.
Be not so quick to judge, and remember your own sins before you charge
others without knowledge. Listen now to me."
And he spoke Mary Callen's tale as he knew it, and as she had given it to
him, not forgetting to mention that she had been told the thing which had
occurred in Pipi Valley.
The heroic devotion of this woman, and Pretty Pierre's act of friendship
to her, together with the swift panorama of his past across the seas,
awoke the whole man in Shon, as the staunch life that he had lately led
rendered it possible. There was a grave, kind look upon his face when he
rose at the ending of the tale, and came to her, saying:
"Mary, it is I who need forgiveness. Will you come now to the home you
wanted?" and he stretched his arms to her. . . .
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