Page 179 - a-portrait-of-the-artist-as-a-young-man

you not?
—Yes, father.
The old and weary voice fell like sweet rain upon his
quaking parching heart. How sweet and sad!
—Do so my poor child. The devil has led you astray.
Drive him back to hell when he tempts you to dishonour
your body in that way—the foul spirit who hates our Lord.
Promise God now that you will give up that sin, that wretch-
ed wretched sin.
Blinded by his tears and by the light of God’s merci-
fulness he bent his head and heard the grave words of
absolution spoken and saw the priest’s hand raised above
him in token of forgiveness.
—God bless you, my child. Pray for me.
He knelt to say his penance, praying in a corner of the
dark nave; and his prayers ascended to heaven from his pu-
rified heart like perfume streaming upwards from a heart
of white rose.
The muddy streets were gay. He strode homeward, con-
scious of an invisible grace pervading and making light his
limbs. In spite of all he had done it. He had confessed and
God had pardoned him. His soul was made fair and holy
once more, holy and happy.
It would be beautiful to die if God so willed. It was
beautiful to live in grace a life of peace and virtue and for-
bearance with others.
He sat by the fire in the kitchen, not daring to speak for
happiness. Till that moment he had not known how beau-
tiful and peaceful life could be. The green square of paper

179