"No. It is your husband's. Does it belong to his past or present!"
"Oh, his past, poor Leon!"
"One other question. Are you in doubt?"
"Yes, monseigneur. For I urge him one way and all the others another--
even my own father," she sighed.
"Whatever it is, I am certain she is in the right," reflected the
bishop. Aloud, he said, quietly: "If you like to tell me, you may
safely do so."
She made a swift resolution, and she told him. He listened in amazement
to the end.
"Before I speak, will you let me hear what is your own counsel!"
"I want him to meet the charge with the truth," she said, "and to hide
nothing."
"That is a difficult task for a man in your husband's position," said
the bishop, walking along the path with his head bent and his hands
clasped behind him, wondering.
She sighed. "Very. And they are all against it. They think this
Monsieur Lemaire may find it impossible to bring proofs, and they think
also that from my birth I am no judge of the terrible indignity there
would be if--if--"
She paused and covered her face. The bishop said, very gently--"Yet you
are ready to face this ordeal!"
"Oh, I--I! I am no judge. If he were a beggar, it seems to me I should
feel the same. But, oh, monseigneur, no wonder he shrinks. For him it
is terrible!"
They walked silently. The bishop, who had expected to have to give
advice, noticed that she had not asked for it. "My daughter," he said,
"when I invited your confidence, it was because you said you were in
doubt. But you do not speak doubtfully."
She turned to him quickly. "Whenever I put it into words, all doubt
flies."
"So that if I were to say I thought you wrong, you would not change your
opinion!"