"
Looking into their fierce fever brightness, Pierre understood why they
had quailed. For the man, though wrecked beyond hope of living, was
terrible still. The thick, gray stubble on his face could not hide
altogether the hard lines of mouth and jaw, and on the wasted arm the
hand was grotesquely huge. It was horror that widened the eyes of
Pierre as he looked at Martin Ryder; it was a grim happiness that made
his lips almost smile.
"You've taken holy orders, lad?"
"No."
"But the black dress?"
"I'm only a novice. I've sworn no vows."
"And you don't hate me--you hold no grudge against me for the sake of
your mother?"
Pierre took the heavy hand.
"Are you not my father? And my mother was happy with you. For her sake
I love you."
"The good Father Victor. He sent you to me."
"I came of my own will. He would not have let me go."
"He--he would have kept my flesh and blood away from me?"
"Do not reproach him. He would have kept me from a sin."
"Sin? By God, boy, no matter what I've done, is it sin for my son to
come to me? What sin?"
"The sin of murder!"
"Ha!"
"I have come to find McGurk.
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