"I used be thinking, Daddy Dan, a good deal of what you said to me--how these poor bodies of ours were but a little lime, and phosphorus, and water; and that we must all go through the terrible changes of death; and what you told me of that great saint in Spain and the dead queen; but it was only when Father Letheby read to me about our Lord, 'a worm and no man,' 'a leper and accursed by God and afflicted'; 'and one huge sore from the crown of his head to the sole of his feet'--that I began to think He had made me like Himself, welcome be His Will, and Holy be His Name!" Then I got her a fine big brass Crucifix from the Passionist Fathers at Mount Argus, and left her to her wonder-working and merciful Master. But she has impressed Ormsby profoundly. "The weak things of the world hast Thou chosen to confound the strong." "Thy ways are upon the sea, and Thy pathway on the mighty waters, and Thy footsteps are unknown." "Well, now," I said to Father Letheby, getting out of my reverie, "to come down from the Holy Mountain, what's this you are saying about the shirt-factory? You don't mean to aver it is a _fait-accompli_?" "Certainly," he replied, "everything is arranged; and on the 20th a dozen sewing-machines will be clicking merrily in the old mill." "You have the lamp of Aladdin," I said admiringly. "Now, who's to be there?" "All the gentry and the _élite_ of the neighborhood," he said. "Rather a limited audience for a great occasion," I couldn't help saying. "No matter," he cried, rising up; "it is a good work, however. But you'll take the chair, Father Dan, won't you?" "All right," I replied, but with a little misgiving, for no one knows what necromancy this fellow is capable of, and I had already conjured up visions of the Lord Lieutenant and the Dowager This and the Countess That--"but mind you, my speech is to come in at the end; and I promise you they won't have to look long at their watches." "Very good, sir," he replied, "all is now arranged." I went down to see my little martyr, for she is pleased to say that I do her good by my visits. There she lay meekly, the big crucifix in her hands, and her lips always moving in silent prayer. The children often come in to see her, she told me, and read by her bedside; for now there is no jealousy, nor triumph, but all have begun to think that there is a saint in the parish. The little milliner used come at the beginning, and bring her little novelettes and journals, and talk about the fashions, which only made the sufferer unhappy. All that is now stopped; and the "Clock of the Passion" and the "Visions of Catherine Emmerich" are now her only reading. "Mr. Ormsby was here again to-day," she said. "Indeed. And was he as inquisitive as usual?" "Nearly," she said, with a smile. "But do you know, Daddy Dan, I think he'll become a Catholic. Isn't it an awful thing not to be a Catholic, Daddy Dan?" "'Tis, my child. It's worse than being born blind."