Chapter V
The Holy Grail
By this time the whole parish knew about the affair at the Club. Likeall reports, it increased in the telling until there was the generalimpression that the Club was a pack of rowdies. Many a father and motherwondered why Father Boone tolerated such an organization.
"I thought these boys were in good keeping," said one mother to another.
"Yes, and it's worse than we know of," replied the other, "for I triedto get at the facts from my Johnnie, but he was as close as a clam.Unless it was something dreadful, he wouldn't mind telling his mother."
The fact was that the boys had reached an understanding not to talkabout the affair at all. They were determined to clear the Club's nameand until they had something definite to offer, explanations, theydecided, had best be omitted. So 'mum' was the word.
Mrs. Mulvy was returning from early Mass, that morning, when Mrs. Doyle,a woman she highly regarded, stopped her to say that it was too bad thatFrank was mixed up in the row at the Club. Mrs. Mulvy only smiled andremarked that she thought there must be some mistake. But a little laterin the day, Mrs. Duffy called on her and after a few conventionalremarks, said "I really think it is too bad, Mrs. Mulvy, that those boysshould be up to such mischief."
"Why, what do you refer to, Mrs. Duffy?"
"I thought you knew all about it--that wholesale smash-up at the Club.Surely it was disgraceful. Furniture broken, the pictures and wallsdisfigured and the whole house ransacked. It's a wonder some of themwere not arrested."
This was news to Mrs. Mulvy. She had heard Father Boone call the doingsat the Club serious, but she supposed that they were only serious in hiseyes, because of the high standard he had set for the boys. Now sheheard for the first time of wholesale damage, of wrecked rooms andfurniture! "Are you sure of all this?" she inquired.
Mrs. Duffy replied, "It must be so, for everybody is talking about it."Then she added, "But my boy, George, won't open his mouth about it. Itmust be bad if he is afraid to let me know. I am going to take him tothe priest tonight and find out all about it, and if he had a hand init--well, he'll wish he hadn't."
Mrs. Mulvy was too confused to speak. She had wondered why Father Boonewas so stern when he addressed Frank as "sir." Also she had wondered atFrank's intense emotion on that occasion. "So it was really serious,"she reflected. "And gossip is getting Frank all mixed up with it!"
Mrs. Duffy continued hesitatingly, "I thought I'd come over to see youfirst, Mrs. Mulvy, because they all say that Frank is the only one whoowned up to knowing anything about it."
Mrs. Mulvy caught her breath. However, she answered, composedly enough,"I should be sorry to know that my boy was really in such awfulmischief, but if he was, I am proud that he owned up to it. It isboy-like to get into a scrape, but it is very noble to stand up andadmit it."
"I feel that way myself, Mrs. Mulvy. If George was in it, he will haveto own up to it, but I am sorry that he did not do so of his ownaccord. George is a good boy, though, I never knew him to do anythingthat I was ashamed of before," said Mrs. Duffy wistfully, as she tookher leave. Mrs. Mulvy almost collapsed as she sank into a chair.
For a few moments she was in a state of distraction. At length shesighed, "Poor Frank!" After a while, she arose and went to a littleshrine of the Blessed Virgin which she called her oratory. Here it wasthat the whole family knelt every night to say the rosary together. Hereit was that each one said morning prayers before leaving the house forthe day's occupations. She had consecrated all her children to theBlessed Mother, and begged her powerful protection for them. The Motherof God had been a good Mother to her devoted children, and so far Mrs.Mulvy had realized that devotion to Christ's Mother was one of thegreatest safeguards of virtue. She knelt before the image of the BlessedMother and prayed, "Mother of God, to whose care I have entrusted thelittle ones He has given me, be more than ever a Mother to my childrennow. Especially take under thy protection my good boy Frank. Holy Mary,Mother of God, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death.Amen."
When she arose she had decided to make no inquiries of Father Boone, norwould she have any misgivings about her boy. She would trust him.
(II)
On his way to school the same morning, Frank was stopped a number oftimes and asked, "What was that scrape you got into, Mulvy?" At first,he laughed it off. But gradually it irritated him, as one after anotherreferred to it. It was his custom to make a visit to the church everymorning on his way to school. This morning he went straight to the altarof the Blessed Virgin and prayed fervently that in this trying situationhe would do nothing displeasing to her or her Son. He also begged herthat she would be a Mother to his mother and help her in this hour oftrial. Arising from prayer he felt that he could submit tomisunderstanding or even injustice, and do it patiently.
On leaving the church he met Tommy and Dick also coming out.
"Gee!" exclaimed Dick, "you are in for it, Hank. Everybody says that youare the cause of the Club damage. The fellows are saying nothing, butone or two must have leaked, for it's all over the parish that youadmitted you were in it."
"Yes," added Tommy, "I nearly got into a fight denying that you had apart in the matter."
"You two are true blue," answered Frank. "Things do look bad for me. Butin a day or two it'll be all cleared up." He was calculating on BillDaly's telling everything to Father Boone on his next visit to thehospital. Frank knew that the priest would see Bill every day or sountil he got well, and that it was only a rush of work that had kept thedirector from going down again before this.
When Frank got to school he noticed almost at once that Mr. Collinsseemed somewhat disturbed. He barely bade Frank good morning. When ateacher prides himself on the fact that his class bears the highestreputation in the school for deportment and application, of course hefeels it keenly if one of his best boys is the subject of criticism andveiled accusations. On the way to school, Mr. Collins had got manyinquiries about Mulvy's character. 'He was glad to say that Frank wasthe finest boy in his class.' But by the time he reached the class room,he showed his disturbed feelings in his greeting to Frank. The boyreally cared greatly for his teacher, and was hurt to think that heshould lose his good opinion even for a short while.
However, class went on as usual until about ten o'clock, when theprincipal of the school entered the class room. He listened to therecitations for a short while and spoke approvingly of the good workbeing done. Then he turned to Mr. Collins and said, "Have you any ofFather Boone's boys in your class?"
"I believe I have. Will the boys who belong to Father Boone's Clubplease stand."
Four stood up.
"That will do," said the principal. "Be seated. I should like you fourboys to report at the office at noon."
At recess, the four got together and conjectured what was up. "O, it'sclear," said Frank. "He wants to find out if any of the High School boysare implicated."
"What do you suppose he'll do?" remarked Redmond.
"Why, he'll quiz us, of course. He may have heard exaggerated reports ofthe thing."
"I don't see that it is any of his business," observed Cavanaugh.
"Well, you know," responded Frank, "that the Regal is mighty touchyabout its reputation and he does not want any mud slung at it if he canhelp it."
At noon the four went together to the office. The principal met them andbegan at once.
"Boys, it's really not my affair, but I can't help being concerned. Youknow our school puts a value not only on learning, but on character. Ishould say, mainly on character. I hate to hear of any of our boys beingmixed up in an ungentlemanly affair. I have called you in order to getthe truth of the matter. There are bad rumors afloat. I don't trustthem. Mulvy, may I ask you to state just what occurred?"
"I'd rather you'd ask Redmond, Father, if you please."
"It's all the same. I asked you, Mulvy, because they tell me you aresecretary of the Club, and Mr. Collins informs me you are the leader ofhis class."
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p; "Thank you, Father, but I have personal reasons for declining to speakof the affair."
"Very well, my boy, I don't wish to embarrass you. Tell me, Redmond,just what happened."
Redmond narrated everything.
"That sounds very serious," declared the principal. "Father Boone is agood friend of mine, and very devoted to you boys. He undoubtedly feelsthis thing more than you can imagine."
"We know that, and really, that's what hurts us most," said Frank.
"Now, young men, I am going to ask you a question. You are not obligedto answer it unless you wish. It is outside my domain. Did any of youhave a hand in that affair?"
The four answered together, "No."
"Good, I knew it. Now I can state that the High School boys were not inthe mischief at all. Now another question. Do you know who did it?"
Three answered, "No."
The principal noticed Frank's silence, and turning to the boys, hedismissed them, at the same time asking Frank to stay a moment.
"My boy," he began, "you indicate that you have some knowledge of thisaffair. You also show that you're concerned about Father Boone'sfeelings in the matter. I wish you to know that he is terribly cut upover this thing. You are, or were, an official of the Club. If, withoutactual dishonor, you can give him any clue to the perpetrators, youshould do it, for it concerns justice and charity."
"I have considered that, Father, and I am persuaded that I must not saywhat I know."
"Well," said the principal, "I'll take your word for that. I know youbetter than you think. If you feel that way, I would not insist aparticle. But bear in mind, young man, the only thing that standsbetween you and condemnation is yourself. With those who know you thatis sufficient. With others, you may have to suffer for the stand you aretaking."
"I'm suffering now, and expect to suffer more. But I know I'm right, andthat's the main thing."
"I am proud of you, Mulvy," said the principal, as he dismissed him.
Outside the school it was rumored that Frank had been ordered to theprincipal's office and had been threatened with suspension. Color wasgiven this report by the fact that he came out from the school aloneand much later than the rest, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Thewords of assurance given him by the principal had affected him deeply.
Of course the report was that he had got a dreadful laying out from theprincipal. There were not a few boys of the school who were glad to hearof Frank's downfall. He had been so much respected by teachers, and sowell liked by his companions, that there were bound to be some fellowsrather envious of him.
As he passed the first corner of the street, he encountered a group ofsome eight or ten boys standing around. One of the largest boys, JohnMorris, remarked, for Frank's benefit, "I say, fellows, lots of statuesare toppling these days." For a moment Frank's blood boiled, and he wason the point of resenting the slur, when he recollected that after all,appearances were against him and he must take the consequences of hisattitude. So he came up smiling. Most of the boys were of the class ayear ahead of him, but Frank had always been welcomed in the oldergroups.
When Morris perceived, or fancied, that his shot had missed the mark, hesaid calmly, "I see you got a 'call-down,' Mulvy."
"Yes," said Frank, "and a hard one, too."
At this, most of the fellows sympathized with him. Boys have, for themost part, a sense of justice. They desire to see fair play--they knowwhen to let up. When he reached home, he went straight to his mother.
"Mother," he said, "you won't listen to any of the stories and thingsthey are saying, will you? I could speak of it--of that whole Clubmatter, you know, to the priest, in confession, mother, but to no oneelse and in no other way. If some one had told you, mother, in the mostsacred confidence, something about his most secret doings, and if it wassomething which you never could know otherwise, would you feel justifiedin revealing it?"
"Certainly not, Frank."
"Well, that is my position, mother. For the present my mouth is locked,but in due time everything will be set right."
"Yes, yes, my boy. Mother knows you will do what is right. Duty costsdear, but one must pay the price. After all, if it were easy to doright, there wouldn't be much credit in it. It is the hard things thatcount."
"I am glad, mother, that we both look at it in the same way."
Her answer was a kiss.
(III)
On his way to the Club that evening, Frank met Dick.
"Did you hear the news, Hank?" he said. "Bill Daly is dying. He hastyphoid."
"Who told you, Dick?"
"Tom Gaffney. He was down to the rectory before supper and Father Boonehad just come back from the hospital. He told him that Bill wasdelirious three days. He also said that he had given him the last rites,and that there was slim chance for his recovery."
Frank and Dick accelerated their pace. They were both anxious to hearmore about the matter. At the Club, they met Father Boone going out.
"Boys, say a little prayer for William Daly. I think he is near theend."
"Was he prepared?" asked Frank, a lump in his throat.
"Everything except confession," replied the priest. "You see, he isdelirious. I have been down to see him twice a day the last two days,but he has not regained consciousness. I am going down now in hopes Imay find him able to go to confession. If not, we must leave him to Godand the Blessed Mother."
Saying that, he started off to the hospital.
Frank turned white as a sheet.
"What's the matter, Hank?" said Dick. He could not answer. "Why, what'sup, Frank?"
"O, nothing, Dick, I'm all right now."
Like a flash it had occurred to Frank. "What if Daly should die withoutsaying anything about the Club affair!" No wonder his heart beat like ahammer! No wonder Dick showed alarm.
"I've been intending to go down and see Daly," said Frank, "but it hasbeen one thing after another these past two days. Besides, I left himall right. Yes, I hope he comes out of it."
When the two friends entered the Club they found the crowd prettyserious. The exploit which had landed Daly in the hospital had endearedhim to the fellows, and they now felt genuinely sorry for him. Theybegan to recall their mean treatment of him on the very night of thefire. They asked one another what it was he had wanted to say, when theygave him no chance to open his mouth. Everything occurred to them exceptthe one thing, the damage at the Club. Somehow that never seemed toconnect itself with Daly.
As they sat around more or less in silence, Frank said, "Tomorrow is theFirst Friday; what do you say, fellows, if we go to Communion for Bill?"Every boy assented.
When, about an hour later, Father Boone returned, he was very serious.
"Boys," he said, "Daly is in a critical condition. The doctors hold outlittle hope. Tomorrow I shall say Mass for him. I hope you boys willalso remember him in your prayers."
"We are all going to Communion for him tomorrow, Father," said Ned.
"O, that's good," answered the priest. "That's very good of you. Godknows what is best. His holy Will be done, but we shall pray that if itis God's Will, he may be spared."
"Was he conscious?" anxiously asked Frank.
"No," answered the priest, "I have been watching him carefully the pasttwo days, but so far he has not got out of his delirium." Frank had areturn, suddenly, of that faint feeling. True, the Club damage was inthe background now, in the presence of death, but it was only deferred,not settled. And what would happen if the secret died with Daly?
Frank was extremely conscientious. He was not counting on what he couldlawfully do in case Daly should die. He was determined that if worsecame to worst he would bear the brunt of the disgrace himself ratherthan say a word that would blacken the name of one who had passed away.He must not flinch. He must be a real Knight of the Cross.
Frank left the Club much earlier than usual and alone. Something seemedto draw him to the hospital. At any rate, after five minutes, he foundhimself on the avenue going down to where Bill Daly lay in deli
rium. Hegot permission at the office to visit him. When he reached the patient,he found Mr. and Mrs. Daly there. Mrs. Daly welcomed him and introducedhim to Mr. Daly as "that nice boy I told you about."
"And you are Willie's friend?" said Mr. Daly.
"Yes, I am glad to say."
"O, he was the good boy," continued Bill's father. "He should have had abetter chance!"
Frank said nothing.
Then the mother began, "Willie was all I had to live for these manyyears, and now that his father's himself again, maybe God will takeaway my boy. Oh, but it's a cruel world and hard to understand! But Godknows best."
"We are all going to Communion for him tomorrow," said Frank,sympathetically. "When Father Boone told us that William was dangerouslyill, all the boys of the Club agreed to go to Holy Communion for him.You know tomorrow's the First Friday."
"O, thank you, you are such good boys," she sighed.
Frank did not know whether to stay or go. Bill lay there unconscious,muttering from time to time. His father and mother sat by the bed oneither side. Frank was standing. They were in a private room. Bill hadbeen moved from the ward after a visit from Mr. Roberts. Every comfortthat good nursing and attention could give was supplied. An automobile,moreover, took Bill's parents to and from the hospital. Mr. Roberts hadtold Mrs. Daly that as soon as her boy got well he would put him toschool and see him through to any profession he chose, and that he wouldplace Mr. Daly in a good position.
Mrs. Daly told all this to Frank as he stood looking down into thepatient's fevered face. "But now I suppose it's all over with Willie,"she groaned, "God's ways are not our ways. His holy will be done! I toldMr. Roberts about you, and how good you were to Willie and me. He saidhe wants to see you. He will be down soon, so you must wait till hecomes."
"I shall be glad to," replied Frank.
Bill was tossing about a good deal and now he began a string ofincoherent words. His father and mother bent over him to see if theycould help him in any way. But he was only rambling. After a littlewhile, he began to speak again. "Dad, you'll never drink again, willyou? Dad, you'll be good to Ma, won't you?" Frank was about to retirewhen Mrs. Daly beckoned to him to remain.
"Don't mind what he says, dear," she whispered. "He talks that way allday." Then she added, the tears filling her eyes, "and what he says isso often the truth. But sometimes he talks awful nonsense. Just beforeyou came, he was telling us about smashing tables and furniture at theClub, poor boy!"
"And what he says is so often the truth," repeated Frank mentally.
Again Bill began to talk. "O, he has 'sand.'"
"I wonder what that means?" asked Mrs. Daly.
Frank shrugged his shoulders.
"But, he's good, too," continued Bill. "That's why he has 'sand.' What acur I was to put him in bad." Then, after a pause, "Mulvy, never againfor me! Straight goods for mine. No more yellow for Bill Daly."
His parents looked at one another. It was all Greek to them. But it hadmuch meaning for Frank. Mr. Daly sat there in deep thought. He wasthinking of his early days, his happy home, his fond child. And thencame the years after. The broken home, the broken hearts and here now,his dying boy.
"God is punishing me," he thought to himself. "But I wish He would notpunish the mother for my sins. O God, spare my boy!"
This last he said out loud. Frank and Mrs. Daly turned suddenly towardhim. His voice was choked as he said, "O God, punish me but spare thoseI love!" Frank's eyes filled as he gazed on the broken man before him.
Again Bill's voice was heard. "Mother, I want Frank. Send for Frank. Iwant Frank and Father Boone. Dad, we'll never quarrel again. Home willbe nice for us all. Mother, mother, mother!" And he lapsed intounconsciousness again.
Frank felt terribly out of place. Twice while Bill was talking, he hadstarted to go, but Mrs. Daly held him. He seemed to be necessary to hernow. He was her boy's friend and she wanted him by her. Frank perceivedthis and he made up his mind to wait as long as he could. After about anhour Father Boone came in.
"I was down near here on a sick call, and I thought I'd just drop in fora moment," he said. "O, you here, Frank? Well now, that's nice, Ideclare." And he sat down.
The doctor was making his final rounds for the evening, and entered justas the priest was seated. He saluted all, gave a special nod to FatherBoone, and then, after excusing his interruption, went over to thepatient. All were quiet as he made his examination. When he finished,the mother stood up and looking him direct in the eyes, said, "Doctor,is my boy going to die?"
"We never know, Madam. We can't tell. We do all we can, and hope for thebest. That is what you must do too. But he is very ill."
From the tone it was said in, the mother gathered that there was littlehope. That was Father Boone's impression also. Mr. Daly seemed to be ina trance. His mind was elsewhere. But his taut face showed that he wasthinking regrettable things.
When the doctor left, Father Boone took Mrs. Daly by the hand and said,"My dear child, you must be brave. These are the moments when ourblessed Faith means everything to us. God's will is the greatest thingin the world. That is why our Lord, in teaching us to pray, said: 'Thywill be done.' He taught us that because it was necessary. He taught itby example as well as by precept. In Gethsemani He prayed, 'Not my willbut Thine be done.' He, the Son of God, had His sorrows too. Resignationto God's will does not mean that we must not feel or suffer, but that inspite of our feelings, we rise up in Faith and see God as our Father. Wemust realize that He loves us, and we must say to Him, 'Thy will bedone.' His will may cause pain now, but it is the pain that profits tolife everlasting, and the pain that makes us like unto Him and dear toHim. Let us all kneel down, all of us, and say the 'Our Father.'"
Slowly, solemnly, he prayed. "Our Father . . . who art in heaven, . . .hallowed be Thy name; . . . Thy kingdom come; . . . _Thy . . . will . . .be . . . done . . ._ on earth as it is in heaven. . . . Give us thisday our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, . . . as we forgivethose who trespass against us. . . . And lead us not into temptation;. . . but deliver us from evil. . . . Amen."
There was a pause--a long pause. Frank thought it was a new prayer. Hehad never realized all that it meant. It seemed the best sermon he hadever heard. He felt now that he could bow his head to anything that Godasked of him and say "Thy will be done." The priest arose, and theothers with him.
The mother's face was changed. There was the peace of God on hercountenance. In the presence of her dying son, she had the exaltation ofMary at the foot of the Cross. Mr. Daly stood stunned. In a few minuteshe too showed a calm face. Father Boone was the first to break thesilence.
"If God wants your boy, Mrs. Daly, let Him have him. If you asked Williefor something you would want him to give it to you. If it was hard forhim to give, you would know he loved you when he gave it. If God asksyou for Willie, show Him you love Him. And now good-bye.
"It is late, Frank. You had better come along with me," he added,looking toward him. They made their parting as consoling as possible andleft.
Later, as they struck the Avenue, and were going along in silence,Father Boone began to speak--half to himself, half to Frank. "I supposeyou wondered that I talked to them as though Bill's death were acertainty? Well, from my experience, I think it is. If I were sure ofbeing present when he dies, I would not have anticipated. But suppose hegoes off tonight, and no one is there but themselves! They havesomething now to sustain them.
"Our Faith is a wonderful thing. People outside know nothing of thecomfort and strength it brings in affliction. There may be some excusesfor a fellow when he is young, and healthy, and well-off, to say he hasno use for religion. But the whole world isn't young, nor in health, norrich. Most people have ills of one kind or another. Some are poor, somein ill-health, some old, or misunderstood. So our Lord chose povertyand suffering. He did not want better treatment than His followers wereto have.
"When anything hard happens to me, I try to bear it cheerfully, and tellmyself I should be asham
ed to have better treatment than My Lord. AndI've had some pretty tough things. I don't show it, but your hair wouldstand straight up if I were to tell you some of the things I've gonethrough. And do you know, when I have something terribly hard to endure,I take a positive pleasure in kneeling before the altar and saying toGod: 'This costs me a lot, Lord, but I am glad it does, for I havesomething worth while to offer Thee'." He heaved a deep sigh.
"Frank, excuse me for talking about myself. Just thinking aloud. Yousee, that afflicted mother and father bring out serious reflections."
By now they had reached the rectory. "Good bye, Frank," said the priest.
"Good bye, Father," answered Frank, grasping the priest's hand veryfirmly.
As Frank went on his way, he said to himself, "Gee, now I know where hegets his power. When he prays, he prays. No wonder he does so muchgood, and so quietly. No one knows anything about it unless byaccident."
(IV)
At the hospital, Daly was sinking fast. The doctor came in frequently.And then, as often happens shortly before death, the delirium terminatedfor awhile. Bill looked up and saw his father and mother standing overhim. It took him some seconds to realize where he was. It all came backto him in a rush. He also felt very weak. He had never felt like thisbefore. Something told him he was going to die.
In a low voice he said to his father, "Pop, I guess I am wanted upthere. I'm sorry for all I've done. I know you'll be good to ma." Apause. "Ma, it's hard to go and leave you, but Dad will take care of youlike he used to, when I was a kid. That'll make up." Another pause. "Pa,ma, make the Act of Contrition with me." They knelt at his side, madethe sign of the cross, and he said, falteringly but clearly:
"O my God! I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because they offend Thee, my God, who art all-good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen."
He fell back exhausted, from his slightly raised position.
In a little while he said, "Ma, I want Father Boone and Frank." Themother knew that the priest was rushed day and night, and hesitated tocall him. Then she remembered that Father Boone had said, "If he returnsto consciousness, be sure and send for me."
While she was thinking how best to do so, Mr. Roberts entered the room.He took in the situation at a glance. "Is there anything I can do foryou?" he asked. On learning of Bill's request, he said, "My machine ishere. I'll run up for Father Boone and the boy, and have them here in notime," and off he went.
Mother and father held either hand of their darling. Not a word wasuttered. In about ten minutes, the door opened and Father Boone andFrank appeared. Bill recognized the priest, and said with an effort, "Iam----so glad----to see----you----Father. I want to go to confession.Then I'll go home." Mr. Roberts, who was not a Catholic, found tearsrunning down his cheeks. Mr. Daly was sobbing.
"I shall have to ask you all to leave the room for a few minutes," saidthe priest, and as they filed out, he put on his sacred stole, andblessed the boy. Then bending over him, he heard Bill's confession.
Bill told him everything. He wanted to go into details, but the priest,to whom a single word meant volumes, quieted him and allowed him to sayonly what was absolutely necessary. When his confession was made, thepriest took out a crucifix and pointing to it, said, "He came for us,for us who offended Him. He is more glad to forgive you than you are toreceive forgiveness. Make your act of contrition, and I shall pronounceGod's absolution. Speak from your heart as to Christ on the Cross. Hesees your repentance. He will heal you and make you His dear child."
As the dying lad was saying his words of sorrow for sin, the priest waspronouncing absolution. "May Almighty God have mercy on you and forgiveyou your sins and bring you to life everlasting, Amen. May the Almightyand Merciful Lord grant you pardon, absolution and remission of all yoursins. Amen. May Our Lord Jesus Christ absolve you, and I, by HisAuthority, do absolve you from every stain of sin. I absolve you fromyour sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the HolyGhost. Amen. May the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ, the merits of theBlessed Virgin Mary and of all the Saints, whatever good you have doneand whatever suffering you have borne, make for the forgiveness of yoursins, for an increase of grace, and for the reward of life eternal.Amen."
Father Boone arose, opened the door and bade all come in. "All pleasekneel down," he said, "I am going to give William, Holy Viaticum." Theyall knelt, including Mr. Roberts. Before the priest administered thesacred rite, he turned to the boy and said,
"My child, I am bringing to you Our Lord Himself, to be your friend andcompanion. Speak your heart to Him." Then administering the BlessedSacrament, he said,
"Receive, my child, the Holy Viaticum, the Body of Our Lord JesusChrist. May He guard you against the evil one and conduct you to lifeeverlasting. Amen."
The boy received the Sacred Host with intense reverence and joy. Hecrossed his arms in prayer. After a short while, he turned to his motherand said, "God wants me, mother."
She responded, "The Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away; blessed be thename of the Lord."
The father came over to his son, and taking his hand kissed it, sayingwith a voice of suppressed emotion, "Good-bye, Willie, pray for yourpoor old Dad."
"Good-bye, Dad. A kiss."
His eyes caught Frank kneeling beside the bed and he faintly smiled athim.
Then, to his mother, "Good-bye, Ma."
She kissed his forehead tenderly. He looked up a moment, and closed hiseyes. Father Boone and Frank were just saying, "Holy Mary, Mother ofGod, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of our death," when themother gave a gasp and said, "My Willie is dead!"
(V)
On the way home an hour later, Frank and the priest walked for a whilein silence. Each had his own thoughts. In an indefinable way, the priestshowed a marked respect for the boy. He understood all now, "A trulynoble boy," he kept saying to himself. But Frank occupied only a part ofhis thoughts. The mysterious ways of God's Providence furnished him foodfor reflection. "A soul saved, a life lost," he said to himself, as heconsidered the reform of Mr. Daly and the death of Bill.
Frank, too, had his thoughts. His tired head was full of all he had seenand heard of Bill's life and family. Bill was a "victim ofcircumstances." "What if my father had been like his?" he asked himself."I have never thanked God enough for my good father and mother." Then hewas glad both for Bill's sake and for his own that Bill had gone toconfession. In his own relief at knowing that the strain ofmisunderstanding was ended for both himself and Father Boone, heexpected the priest momentarily, to refer to the subject. When they hadgone a distance in silence, Frank burst out--the first words betweenthem since leaving the hospital.
"Father, you know all about it now!"
"All about what, Frank?"
"Why, didn't he tell you . . . about the . . ." here he stopped. Thepriest gave him a look that startled him. "O, I beg your pardon, Father,I forgot it was confessional."
From that moment the subject never came up again. But Frank knew in hisheart that he was cleared. It would not matter now, no matter whathappened. The subject never came up again, but in a thousand ways, fromthat night on, Frank realized that Father Boone was his dearest and bestfriend.
Switching the conversation, Father Boone said, "Our prayers for Dalytomorrow will be for his welfare beyond, not here."
"It will be a great shock to the fellows, Father," said Frank.
"Yes, doubtless. Death always is. And the death of a boy especially."
"Why, Father?"
"Well, I suppose because we don't expect the young to die. It seems outof place. But God calls at all hours. After all, it's only a question ofa few years, more or less. We all go sooner or later. The great thing isnot the going, but the manner of it--to live in such a way thatwhenever God calls,
we are ready. Then, it's all one,--for compared witheternity, the longest life is but a fraction of a second. Not eventhat."
They soon reached the rectory. "Good-bye, Frank, my good boy Frank," andthe priest gave him a hand shake that almost made him yell.
"Good-bye, Father."
And when in later years Frank recalled that night, he marvelled that onesmall boy could have been both so sad and so happy.
Boy Knight Page 5