"Now, so far so good!" said Father Letheby, after this little conference. "The metaphysical subject is more difficult to tackle,--a fellow can be tripped up so easily; but we'll postpone that for the present. Now here are three matters that concern us. I think Ormsby is on the point of coming over. The prayers of the little children and of that poor Dolores, Alice, have nearly pushed open the gates of the Kingdom. At least, they're creaking on their hinges. Secondly, I'm beginning to get afraid of that young girl. Under her awful cross she's developing such sanctity as makes me nervous about guiding her any longer. She is going up the eternal hills, and my spiritual sight cannot follow. Thirdly, we open the shirt-factory on the 20th. I give you timely warning, Father Dan, for you are to be chairman, and your speech is to be the event of the occasion." "Quite an anti-climax from the eternal hills," I said, noticing his tendency to practical issues rather than to supernatural evolutions; "but now, let us see. Are you sure of Ormsby?" "Nearly so. I have left him severely alone--told him the matter concerned himself altogether. He has given up reading and argumentation of every kind. He says the _Veni Creator_ every day. But I think, under Heaven, it is the patience and divine serenity of this poor child that affect him most deeply." "Then he isn't shocked at her appearance?" "Oh, dear, yes! He cannot bear to look at her. He says it is more like Oriental leprosy than anything he has seen in these countries. But her gentleness and patience and her realization of the unseen startle him--" "It has startled me more than once," I replied. "And me. I begin to feel almost nervous about directing so high a soul. I am glad you have noticed it, because you can give me lights." "H'm. You are becoming sarcastic, young man. But I feel we are treading on holy ground. Let us look to ourselves. How often do you give the child Holy Communion?" "Every Sunday and holiday." "Has she asked for more frequent Communion?" "Yes, indeed; but I hesitated." "Hesitate no longer. _Digitus Dei est hic_." Of course, I had seen all this myself; for in a quiet, unconscious way this poor child had manifested even to my purblind eyes the dealings of God's munificence with her. By degrees all the old vain regrets after her beauty had yielded to perfect resignation; and resignation had grown into peace, and peace had been transformed into rapture.