"I cannot tell you yet.... Robin, what a holy man that travelling priest
must be, who said mass on Sunday."
The lad was bewildered at her swift changes of thought, for he did not
yet see the chain on which they hung. He strove to follow her.
"It seemed so to me too," he said. "I think I have never seen--"
"It seemed so to you too," she cried. "Why, what do you know of him?"
He was amazed at her vehemence. She had drawn herself clear of his arm
and was looking at him full in the face.
"I met him on the moor," he said. "I had some talk with him. I got his
blessing."
"You got his blessing! Why, so did I, after the mass, when you were
gone."
"Then that should join us more closely than ever," he said.
"In Heaven, perhaps, but on earth--" She checked herself again. "Tell me
what you thought of him, Robin."
"I thought it was strange that such a man as that should live such a
rough life. If he were in the seminary now, safe at Douay--"
She seemed a shade paler, but her eyes did not flicker.
"Yes," she said. "And you thought--?"
"I thought that it was not that kind of man who should fare so hardly.
If it were a man like John Merton, who is accustomed to such things, or
a man like me--"
Again he stopped; he did not know why. But it was as if she had cried
out, though she neither spoke nor moved.
"You thought that, did you, Robin?" she said presently, never moving her
eyes from his face. "I thought so, too.
Pages:
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83