"I cannot let you take it, my son," said Father Beret "You have
its mate, that should satisfy you."
"No, Colonel Hamilton took it," Farnsworth quickly replied. "If I
could I would gladly return it to its owner. I am not a thief,
Father, and I am ashamed of--of--what I did when I was drunk."
The priest looked sharply into Farnsworth's eyes and read there
something that reassured him. His long experience had rendered him
adept at taking a man's value at a glance. He slightly lifted his
face and said: "Ah, but the poor little girl! why do you persecute
her? She really does not deserve it. She is a noble child. Give
her back to her home and her people. Do not soil and spoil her
sweet life."
It was the sing-song voice used by Father Beret in his sermons and
prayers; but something went with it indescribably touching.
Farnsworth felt a lump rise in his throat and his eyes were ready
to show tears. "Father," he said, with difficulty making his words
distinct, "I would not harm Miss Roussillon to save my own life,
and I would do anything--" he paused slightly, then added with
passionate force; "I would do anything, no matter what, to save
her from the terrible thing that now threatens her."
Father Beret's countenance changed curiously as he gazed at the
young man and said:
"If you really mean what you say, you can easily save her, my
son.
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