"I've done all I can. The rest is out of our hands." The little
man sat down heavily and mopped his forehead.
"What does he say?"
"He told me to come here and wait. I never saw a man so torn, so
distracted."
"Then he is wavering. Oh-h!" Alaire clasped her hands in
thanksgiving, but the Father cautioned her:
"Don't be too sanguine. He is not afraid of consequences. He
appears to have no conscience. He is without mercy and seems lost
to shame. I have never met a man quite like him. Do you know what
he feels at this moment? Chagrin. Yes, mortification raised to the
highest pitch, and a sort of stupefaction that you should prefer
another man to him. He can't understand your lack of taste."
Father O'Malley smiled faintly.
"Conceited idiot," Dave growled.
"His humiliation kills him. When I saw that it was useless to
appeal to him on moral grounds, and that threats were unavailing,
I took another course. Something gave me insight into his mind,
and the power to talk as I have never talked before. All in a
flash I saw the man's soul laid bare before me, and--I think I
played upon it with some cunning. I don't remember all I said, for
I was inspired, but I appealed to his vanity and to his conceit,
and as I went along I impressed upon him, over and over, the fact
that the world knows we are here and that it trusts him.
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