A light tap upon the door, but the man by the stove was too much
occupied with those phantoms of the past to pay heed to it. The door
opened quietly and a priest stepped into the room. The man's gaze
shifted from the vacant chair to the black-robed figure standing by the
door and looking at him in puzzled amazement. Phantoms of the past? Yes,
indeed, and here was one more come to torment him and to mock at him.
The two watched each other in silence for a moment. Then, the man
crouching in his chair by the fire found voice at last:
"What brings you here, you, of all men? Have you come to taunt me, to
upbraid me, to delight your eyes with the sight of my misery? Have you
come to laugh at me in my downfall?"
"Nay, friend," returned the priest gently, "none of those things has
brought me to you to-day. I come only on a mission of mercy, to bring
you peace and pardon."
"But how did you find me; who sent you to me?" demanded the man by the
fire.
"A little old woman, Nancy by name, told me there was one here sadly in
need of the ministrations of a priest. I did not dream that I should
find _you_."
"You know me then; you remember me?"
"I remember you perfectly and recognized you at once, though you have
changed almost beyond recognition."
"You say you know me, but you do not, you do not. You may know _who_ I
am, but you don't know _what_ I am.
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