"Very!" "H’mm!" said the dry cough. "What is his religion?" "He is a Catholic." "H’mm! ... A devout Catholic?" "He seems—awfully keen on his Church!" A silence had followed, during which the beating of Patrine’s heart and the singing of the blood in her ears had seemed to fill the clean little wooden place. Then: "Do you intend to tell this keen Catholic," asked the merciless voice, "that you do not come to him—pure?" "No! ... At least..." The heave of her bosom against the little shelf before the lattice made the dry wood quiver and creak. A deep sigh broke from her. The priest’s voice continued: "You have made it quite clear why you have applied to me. To be encouraged not to tell! But even for your own sake I advise you to make confession. Do you expect God’s blessing upon a marriage that is—upon your side—a fraud?" "Men aren’t angels!" Patrine burst out rebelliously. "How do I know that he—Yes, I do know!" His face had risen up before her, and his voice was in her ears saying with that note of gladness in it: "I come to you clean!" and shame and compunction choked her, as she added: "He’s straighter than I should have believed it possible for any man to be." "H’mm!" The dry hacking old man’s cough came again. He sniffed twice, sharply. Now he was speaking again. "You have not known many—or any Catholic men before this one. Your doubt as to the existence of masculine purity proves with what type of persons you have hitherto mixed. For your own sake you will be wise to tell the truth to this gentleman. If you loved him you would tell him for his. Now you must leave. I have given you too much time as it is. Repeat after me as I dictate." He clasped the withered hands and began briskly: "_Oh, my God——_" After a brief ineffectual hesitation, Patrine echoed him. He went on trailing after him a voice that stumbled and dragged: "_Oh, my God! I am very sorry that I have offended Thee by the sin of fornication, and have yielded up my body to uncleanness, instead of keeping myself pure as Thou commandest. I beseech Thee for the love of Thy Son my Saviour Jesus Christ to bestow upon me the grace of a genuine sorrow for my sin; and while I implore that Thou wouldst mercifully spare me the ruin and disgrace I have merited by my own act, I faithfully promise Thee to profit by the bitter lesson I have learned. But if I find myself as the natural consequence of my wickedness——_" "_—of my wickedness——_" The dragging echo failed. A mist came before her eyes. "Go on," said the stern voice from the other side of the grating. It went on dictating: "_But if I find myself as the natural consequence of my sinfulness about to be the mother of a child, I vow not to be guilty of any violence to the innocent. But to bear my bitter punishment meekly, as coming from Thy Hand. Amen._" She said the words. He blessed her with some such words as these: