Imagine him cruel and bloody--a gambler by profession, an outlaw among men, an outcast from the Church; voluntarily abandoning friends and family,--the wife he should have cherished, the son he should have reared and educated--for the gratification of his deadly passions.

Yet imagine that man suddenly confronted with the thought of that heritage of shame and disgust which he had brought upon his innocent offspring--to whom he cannot give even his own desperate recklessness to sustain its vicarious suffering.

What must be the feelings of a parent--" "Father Sobriente," said Clarence softly.
To the boy's surprise, scarcely had he spoken when the soft protecting palm of the priest was already upon his shoulder, and the snuffy but kindly upper lip, trembling with some strange emotion, close beside his cheek.
"What is it, Clarence ?" he said hurriedly.

"Speak, my son, without fear! You would ask--" "I only wanted to know if 'padre' takes a masculine verb here," replied Clarence naively.
Father Sobriente blew his nose violently.

"Truly--though used for either gender, by the context masculine," he responded gravely.