"He was a dear friend."
At this reply the eyebrows of the holy man were elevated. A light broke
in upon him. With a manner more sympathetic than heretofore--and less
patronizing--he said gently:
"Father Burke was a dear friend of mine, also,--an irreparable loss to
the Church and to all who knew him. Is it possible you are the young
lady whom he held in such high esteem and affection, and of whom he
wrote to me? Were you in his spiritual charge, with thoughts of a
convent?"
She nodded.
Into his face came a look of joy. Then, in a voice brimming over with
tenderness and paternal sympathy:
"I cannot express my pleasure, my heartfelt gratitude, that you have
been spared us. Of your exalted character and of your holy aspirations
our dear friend spoke repeatedly. And now, in your hour of affliction,
it will be not only the duty, but the joy and privilege of our Holy
Church to serve you as counsellor and guide."
As the girl made no reply, he went on, in a subdued and gently modulated
voice:
"At this time more than ever before, you must need the consolation of
Religion. Am I not right in believing that you feel a deeper yearning
for the closer love and protection of our Heavenly Father, for that
security and peace which the outer world can never offer? And too well
we know that the outer world is uncharitable and cruel. It might look
askance upon this strange adventure. But the arms of Our Mother are ever
open. You are always her daughter, and with _her_ there is nothing
to forgive. All is love, and faith, and peace."
To this deeply religious girl, now stricken and weary, whose heart was
numbed with grief, whose hope was crushed, these words came as a voice
from Heaven. She held forth a hand which the prelate held in both his
own.
"God bless you, my child."
[Illustration]