Really, my dear sir, if you will pardon my saying so, the idea
is absurd."
The priest made no reply and his eyes were still fixed on the young
lawyer's face, but as he gazed, the expression of his own face changed.
A half smile lighted it for a moment. The good man's sense of humor was
keen. But this passed quickly and in its stead there came the compassion
which any purely human weakness, however great or small, always awoke in
his truly compassionate breast.
The judge apparently had not heard what his nephew said. He always began
to feel impatient as soon as the young man commenced to speak. And he
now gave his tousled head the old, unconscious toss, like a horse
shaking his mane at the lighting of a persistent fly. And then, paying
no more attention to William Pressley and drawing his chair nearer
Father Orin's, he went on with the grave talk. It was he, however, who
did all the talking now; the priest had suddenly become a passive
listener. He had no more ideas to advance.
The three men turned many anxious looks on the open door. It was still a
framed space of misty gray, filled only with the melancholy mystery of
the wintry dawn.
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