"Boy," said his father, steadying his voice with great effort and speaking quietly, "with us, in our country, we learn first, obedience." The lad dropped his hold.
"Good!" said the father.

"You are my own son.

You will yet be a man.
And now farewell." He kissed them again.

The boy broke into passionate sobbing.
Paulina came forward and, kneeling at the father's feet, put her face to the floor.
"I will care for the son of my lord," she murmured.
But with never a look at her, the father strode to the door and passed out into the night.
"Be the howly prophet!" cried Tim, wiping his eyes, "it's harrd, it's harrd! An' it's the heart av a paythriot the lad carries inside av him! An' may Hivin be about him!".