valley--for he had trouble--and said to me: 'Father, I am going away, and
to what place is far from me to know, but wherever it is, I'll live a
life that's fit for men, and not like a loafer on God's world;' and he
gave me money for masses to be said--for the dead."

The girl put out her hand. "Hush! hush!" she said. "Let me think.
Masses for the dead.... What dead? Not for me; he thought me dead long,
long ago."

"No; not for you," was the slow reply.

She noticed his hesitation, and said: "Speak. I know that there is
sorrow on him. Someone--someone--he loved?"

"Someone he loved," was the reply.

"And she died?" The priest bowed his head.

"She was his wife--Shon's wife?" and Mary Callen could not hide from her
words the hurt she felt.

"I married her to him, but yet she was not his wife." There was a keen
distress in the girl's voice. "Father, tell me, tell me what you mean."

"Hush, and I will tell you all. He married her, thinking, and she
thinking, that she was a widowed woman. But her husband came back.
A terrible thing happened. The woman believing, at a painful time, that
he who came back was about to take Shon's life, fired at him, and wounded
him, and then killed herself."