The Keys of the Kingdom Page #5

and all to the bad, I'm afraid.

She became increasingly bitter...

even with those who loved her most.

There seemed little she cared about-

her own character least of all.

- Until finally-

- Father.

What is it you're trying to say?

What's happened?

A baby was born to her

some six weeks ago. A little girl.

She alone knows who the father is.

She will not say.

She's desperately ill.

But it was her express wish

that you were not to be sent for.

I've often wished that

I were a wiser man than I am...

but never so much as now.

I cannot tell you to do anything...

except what is

in your own heart to do.

You can still

catch that train, Francis.

Good-bye, Father.

God bless you, lad.

[Whistle Blows]

Willie.

- How is she?

- Francie, Nora is dead.

It would be easier

if you didn't go up now.

Come on.

Let's walk a bit, huh?

[Bell Tolling]

[Choir Singing, Indistinct]

- Willie.

- Yes, Francie?

- [Tolling Continues]

- [Choir Vocalizing]

Amen

[Monsignor Reading]

"It would be pleasurable to record...

"that I became an immediate

success as a priest.

"Alas, the facts were quite otherwise.

"I failed dismally

in my first two curacies.

"There seemed to be little promise of success

in my next- or ever, for that matter.

"When one day there came

a summons from the new bishop-

the new bishop and my guardian angel

of old, Hamish MacNabb. "

[Chuckling]

Francis, it does my old eyes good...

to see a priest so manifestly

unprosperous as you.

I walked most of the way in the rain.

I'm afraid I got a little wet.

Too rebellious even to use

an umbrella, eh? [Chuckling]

Go over to the fire.

I'll get you something warm.

I'm not yet properly accustomed

to my new dignity.

I ought to ring and command

some of the fine vintages...

used by all the bishops

one reads about.

This is only whiskey.

But then we're only Scotsmen, huh?

But don't look so scared.

Sit down.

- Thank you.

- Sit down.

Under these bishop's robes

there still beats the heart of MacNabb...

the master fisherman.

Remember?

[Chuckling]

Well, here- here's to us.

You've had a pretty thin time of it,

haven't you, Francis?

"Thin's" the kindest possible

word for it, Your Lordship.

Failure might be closer

to the facts.

Hmm. Well, now, let's see.

You've had

two curacies since Holywell.

At the first, Shalesley, you insisted

upon establishing a dance hall.

It was a recreation center, Your Lordship.

There was a desperate need of it.

If you could have seen the poverty

and destitution of those people.

At any rate, there was a rather

serious disagreement...

between you and your superior.

You were then transferred

to Tynecastle, to your home.

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