But the
suspense to us all, for many days, was very great; until, one morning
when the birds were waking the cedars, and the snow on Mount Trinity was
flashing coolness down the hot valley, he waked and said to me: "Marmion,
old friend; it is morning at last."
"Yes, it is morning," said I. "And you are going to live now? You are
going to be reasonable and give the earth another chance?"
"Yes, I believe I shall live now."
To cheer him, I told him what Mr. Devlin intended and had planned; how
river-drivers and salmon-fishers came every day from the valley to
inquire after him. I did not tell him that there had been one or two
disturbances between the river-drivers and the salmon-fishers. I tried to
let him see that there need be no fresh change in his life. At length he
interrupted me.
"Marmion," he said, "I understand what you mean. It would be cowardly of
me to leave here now if I were a whole man. I am true in intention, God
knows, but I must carry a crippled arm for the rest of my life, must I
not? . . . . and a crippled Padre is not the kind of man for this place.
They want men straight on their feet.
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