"Not exactly," answered father Walter, perfectly unmoved; "I only acted as was right and fitting on the occasion, I betrayed no secrets, lady; I gave no further information than was merely necessary to induce this young gentleman to do what was required of him. The very act of renunciation itself bore upon its face, the acknowledgment that he had rights; and I did not in any degree define them, but merely said, that it was necessary he should sign the papers, to guard against any legal contest hereafter." "Pshaw!" cried Madame de Chazeul; "do you think I do not see your motives, Walter de la Tremblade? You would fain have so managed, that the greater part of the benefices, if not the whole, should fall into your hands. You were not content with the Abbey of Chizay--not you! You must have more: and now a fine business you have made of it, for you have lost all to yourself and to us too." The slightest possible glow passed over the cheek of Walter de la Tremblade; but he replied, without the least alteration of tone, "You are wrong in your suspicions, daughter; and they are unworthy of you or me." "Quite worthy of me," replied the Marchioness, "for I like to see to the bottom of men's hearts. Now, I will answer for it, you persuaded him that it was very improper for laymen to hold the property of the church; you showed him, that he could not conscientiously keep these benefices, if he got them, without taking the gown. Ha! have I touched you? can you deny it, Sir?" "Entirely," replied father Walter. "He stated such objections himself; and it was not for me to argue against my conscience. I told him, however, that it was a constant practice in France for men, not ecclesiastics, to hold such benefices. The objections were his, not mine, though how you came to learn they were ever made, I know not, as his conduct turned upon very different feelings." "How I came to learn!" exclaimed the Marchioness, with a scornful smile; "because I know you both right well--by no other means, good father. Oh! I understand the whole. Think you I have lived for fifty years, with my eyes open, in this busy world, and do not know how a calm, quiet priest, by a few soft, half-whispered words, can instil doubts, and insinuate his own views into the mind of a weak-hearted youth; how by a look, or even a faint denial of that which he seeks most strongly to impress, he can produce the effect desired, when seeming to oppose it." "Madam, you are very learned in such arts," replied father Walter, with a slight sarcastic curl of the lip. "I am," answered the Marchioness, boldly, "and I know that father Walter can make use of them as well as others. But there is such a thing as overreaching one's self, Sir; and methinks you have done so in this instance." "Not in the least, daughter," replied the Priest. "I am quite contented, if you are."