ing, now? Sure, all Government
Boards do more wrong than right. It's the nature of that sort of
confederation. But it's all the more thankful we ought to be when once
in a while they do something useful.'

Hyacinth came to tell of the choice which Canon Beecher offered him, and
dwelt with tragic emphasis on his own decision. The priest listened, a
smile on his lips, a look of pity which belied the smile in his eyes.

'So you thought Ireland would be lost altogether unless you wrote
articles for Miss Goold in the _Croppy?_ It's no small opinion you have
of yourself, Hyacinth Conneally. And you thought you'd save your soul by
going to preach the Gospel to the English people? Was that it, now?'

'It was not,' said Hyacinth, 'and you know it wasn't.'

'Of course it wasn't. What was I thinking of to forget the young lady
that was in it? A fine wife you've got, any way. God bless her, and make
you a good husband to her! By the looks of her she's better than you
deserve. I suppose it was to get money you went to England, so as to buy
her pretty dresses and a beautiful house to live in? Did you think you'd
grow rich over there?'

'Indeed I did not,' said Hyacinth bitterly. 'I knew we'd never be rich.'

'Well, then, couldn't you as well have been poor in Ireland? And better,
for everybody's poor here. But there, I know well enough it wasn't money
you were after. Don't be getting angry with me, now. It wasn't for the
sake of saving your soul you went, nor to get your nice wife, though a
man might go a long way for the likes of her. I don't know why you went,
and it's my belief you don't know yourself. But you made a mistake,
whatever you did it for, going off on that English mission. Is it a
mission you call it when you're a Protestant? I don't think it is, but
it doesn't matter. You made a mistake. Why don't you come back again?'

'God knows I would if I could. It's hungry I am to get back--just sick
with hunger and the great desire that is on me to be back again in
Ireland.'

'Well, what's to hinder you? Let me tell you this: There's been four
men in your father's place since he died. Never a one of the first three
would stay. They tell me the pay's small, and the place is desolate to
them for the want of Protestants, there being none, you may say, but the
coastguards. After the third of them left it was long enough before they
got the fourth. I hear they went scouring and scraping round the four
coasts of the country w