“I am a terrible book-worm,” said the Director; “and my first act when I got here was to examine the library. It seems very interesting, but I do not understand the system by which it is catalogued.” “The catalogue is imperfect; many of the best books have been added to the collection lately.” “Can you spare half an hour to explain the arrangement to me?” They went into the library, and Arthur carefully explained the catalogue. When he rose to take his hat, the Director interfered, laughing. “No, no! I can't have you rushing off in that way. It is Saturday, and quite time for you to leave off work till Monday morning. Stop and have supper with me, now I have kept you so late. I am quite alone, and shall be glad of company.” His manner was so bright and pleasant that Arthur felt at ease with him at once. After some desultory conversation, the Director inquired how long he had known Montanelli. “For about seven years. He came back from China when I was twelve years old.” “Ah, yes! It was there that he gained his reputation as a missionary preacher. Have you been his pupil ever since?” “He began teaching me a year later, about the time when I first confessed to him. Since I have been at the Sapienza he has still gone on helping me with anything I wanted to study that was not in the regular course. He has been very kind to me--you can hardly imagine how kind.” “I can well believe it; he is a man whom no one can fail to admire--a most noble and beautiful nature. I have met priests who were out in China with him; and they had no words high enough to praise his energy and courage under all hardships, and his unfailing devotion. You are fortunate to have had in your youth the help and guidance of such a man. I understood from him that you have lost both parents.” “Yes; my father died when I was a child, and my mother a year ago.” “Have you brothers and sisters?” “No; I have step-brothers; but they were business men when I was in the nursery.” “You must have had a lonely childhood; perhaps you value Canon Montanelli's kindness the more for that. By the way, have you chosen a confessor for the time of his absence?” “I thought of going to one of the fathers of Santa Caterina, if they have not too many penitents.” “Will you confess to me?” Arthur opened his eyes in wonder. “Reverend Father, of course I--should be glad; only----” “Only the Director of a theological seminary does not usually receive lay penitents? That is quite true. But I know Canon Montanelli takes a great interest in you, and I fancy he is a little anxious on your behalf--just as I should be if I were leaving a favourite pupil--and would like to know you were under the spiritual guidance of his colleague. And, to be quite frank with you, my son, I like you, and should be glad to give you any help I can.” “If you put it that way, of course I shall be very grateful for your guidance.”