"Certainly; although you would of course bring no message of which you didn't approve." "I am not asked whether I approve or disapprove. It is the decision of the Father Superior that it should be said; and that is the whole of it." "Well," she inquired, as he paused, unable to go on, "after this tremendous preamble, what is it?" It seemed to Maurice that he could not say it; but he cleared his throat, and forced himself to look her in the face. "It has to do with your inheritance of the--your inheritance through Mrs. Frostwinch." "My inheritance? What do you mean?" she demanded, suddenly becoming grave. As briefly as possible he explained to her the errand which had been given to him. He could see indignation gathering in her look. "But who has told Father Frontford that Mrs. Frostwinch is so ill?" she broke out at last. "Cousin Anna is not so well since she came from the South, but that is all. It is shameful to be speculating on her death and disposing of her property as if she were buried already! I wonder at you!" Wynne smiled bitterly. "I have already said that I had nothing whatever to do with the matter," he answered. "You had no right to come to me with such a message. It puts me in the position of waiting for her death! Oh, it's an insult! It's an insult to me and to Cousin Anna! What will she think?" "She will think nothing," he said, roused by a sense of her injustice, "because she will never know." "Why will she not?" "Because if it is cruel for me to say a thing which harms nobody except me for bringing the message, it would be a thousand times more cruel for you to tell your cousin that her death was counted on." He rose as he spoke, and stood looking down on her with the full purpose of constraining her to his will. She sprang up in her turn. "Very well; I will not tell her. You may say to Father Frontford from me that it will be time enough for him to undertake the disposal of my property when it is mine. I thank him for his officiousness!" "You are unjust to Father Frontford. I have made his wish seem offensive by the way I have put it, I suppose. At any rate, he is simply seeking the good of the church." "And to have himself made bishop." "He would vote to-morrow for any man that he thought would do better than he can do. He would support Mr. Strathmore himself if he believed it well for the church. I do not find myself in sympathy with everything that he does, but I know him, and of one thing I am sure: he would be burned alive in slow fires to advance the good of the church." She looked at him curiously. Then she turned away in seeming carelessness, and began to arrange some pink roses which stood in a big vase on a table near at hand. "Good-by," he said. "I am sorry to have offended you." "Must you go?" responded she with a society manner which cut him to the quick. "Let me give you a rose." She broke one off, and handed it to him. He took it awkwardly, wholly at a loss to understand her.