“That isn’t,” said Father Morley. “It is strange, that you were the one who saved that poor creature from suicide to die like a Christian, but it is not strange that her husband recognized the indissoluble link between them. You will find it always true that the supernatural law does no violence to the natural law, but, on the contrary, confirms it, while elevating it beyond nature. To my mind that is one of the proofs of the Church. Heretics have gone contrary to natural laws in all sorts of ways. The Church repeatedly proves that the hand of the Creator is also the hand that founded her. She has sanctified, ennobled, supernaturalized, not contradicted man’s natural instincts and desires. Well, well! You’re not demanding her proofs! Why do I set poor little you up as an heretical tenpin to be bowled over? What is your next step, or do you not know it yet, Cicely Adair?” “No, Father,” replied Cis wistfully. “I don’t know a step; not the next one, nor any beyond that. Do you think I might be a nun? A Sister of Charity would be more in my line; active, you know. Is that what I’m made for?” Father Morley looked at her gravely, yet with a quizzical twinkle in his eye, as if he were enjoying with himself a pleasant secret. “No, my child, I do not think that is your vocation,” he said. “I think that you are meant to be a real helpmeet to a fine man; to do good in the world, bear witness to the value of Catholic Faith and standards, and train up your sons and daughters to carry on that noble inheritance, while they rise up and call you blessed. Perhaps one day to see your son raise his hands before the altar, holding in them the Host, and to kneel, thanking God with tears, that you upheld those hands for that miracle.” “Father!” cried Cicely, and was silent, tears on her cheeks. “If I might! I’d like that most of all,” she murmured after an instant. Anselm Lancaster came that evening to see Cis; he announced that his call was wholly for her. Cis saw him come into the library with amazement that his presence so changed it. There was about him a buoyant happiness; charm went out from him, and purposeful assertion, which was far from conceit, sat on his every movement. “Miss Miriam, Cicely Adair has never seen my house. I was offended last year that you never showed it to her, as much as you drove about, but I hid my wrath. Now I’m out for revenge! I’m going to show it to her myself, and not invite you! Cicely, I’ll be here at half past two to-morrow afternoon. Please be ready to drive with me, out to my house--it’s a shame you’ve not been shown it!--and also wherever the fancy takes us to go. This selfish and unfriendly Miss Miriam shall sit here and languish, eating her heart out till we return!” “Is it a matter so serious as a heart-consuming?” asked Miss Braithwaite. She caught and returned the flash of a look which Anselm darted at her. “I’ll not pretend a virtue I lack; I hope so!” he said.