"I shall walk home with you, Father Dan, if you have no objection," said Bittra. "Come along, child," I replied. "Now, Alice, we shall be watching Monday, All Souls' Day." "Very well, Daddy Dan," she said, smiling. "Everything will come right, as we shall see." As we walked through the village, Bittra said to me wonderingly:-- "Isn't it curious about those sores, Father? They won't heal." "It is," I said musingly. "I have been thinking a lot about it," she said. "And the result of your most wise meditations?" "You'll laugh at me." "Never. I never laugh. I never allow myself to pass beyond the genteel limits of a smile." "Then I think--but--" "Say it out, child. What are you thinking of?" "I think it is the _stigmata_," she said, blushing furiously. I was struck silent. It was too grand. Could it be? Had we a real, positive saint amongst us? "What do you think, Father Dan? Are you angry?" "God forbid, child. But tell me, have you spoken to Alice on the matter?" "Oh, dear no! I wouldn't dream of such a thing. It would give her an awful shock." "Well, we'll keep it a profound secret, and await further revelations. 'Abscondisti hæc a prudentibus, et revelasti ea parvulis.'" But next evening, I think I threw additional fervor into the _Laudate's_ and _Benedicite's_ at Lauds. But as I looked at Father Letheby across the table in the lamplight, and saw his drawn, sallow cheeks and sunken eyes, and the white patch of hair over his ears, I could not help saying to myself: "You, too, have got your _stigmata_, my poor fellow!" FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 8: Shroud.] CHAPTER XXX ALL'S WELL