I saw, as by a flash of light, what was before me, and my whole soul
rose in rebellion against it. That my father after all the years during
which he had neglected me, should come to me now, when my plans were
formed, and change the whole current of my life, was an outrage--an
iniquity. It might be his right--his natural right--but if so his
natural right was a spiritual wrong--and I would resist it--to my last
breath and my last hour I would resist it.
Such were the brave thoughts with which I passed that night, but at ten
o'clock next morning, when I was summoned to meet my father himself, it
was on trembling limbs and with a quivering heart that I went down to
the Reverend Mother's room.
Except that his hair was whiter than before my father was not much
changed. He rose as I entered, saying, "Here she is herself," and when I
went up to him he put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my face.
"Quite a little Italian woman grown! Like your mother though," he said,
and then speaking over my head to the Bishop, who sat on the other side
of the room, he added:
"Guess this will do, Bishop, eh?"
"Perfectly," said the Bishop.
I was colouring in confusion at the continued scrutiny, with a feeling
of being looked over for some unexplained purpose, when the Reverend
Mother called me, and turning to go to her I saw, by the look of pain on
her face that she, too, had been hurt by it.
She put me to sit on a stool by the side of her chair, and taking my
right hand she laid it in her lap and held it there during the whole of
the interview.
The Bishop, whom I had never seen before, was the first to speak. He was
a type of the fashionable ecclesiastic, suave, smiling, faultlessly
dressed in silk soutane and silver buckled shoes, and wearing a heavy
gold chain with a jewelled cross.
"Reverend Mother," he said, "you would gather from Mr. O'Neill's letter
that he wishes to remove his daughter immediately--I presume there will
be no difficulty in his doing so?"
The Reverend Mother did not speak, but I think she must have bent her
head.
"Naturally," said the Bishop, "there will be a certain delay while
suitable clothes are being made for her, but I have no doubt you will
give Mr. O'Neill your help in these preparations."
My head was down, and I did not see if the Reverend Mother bowed again.
But the two gentlemen, apparently satisfied with her silence, began to
talk of the best date for my removal, and just when I was quivering with
fear that without a word of protest I was to be taken away, the Reverend
Mother said:
"Monsignor!"
"Reverend Mother!"
"You are aware that this child"--here she patted my trembling hand--"has
been with me for ten years?"
"I am given to understand so."
"And that during that time she has only once been home?"
"I was not aware--but no doubt it is as you say."
"In short, that during the greater part of her life she has been left to
my undivided care?"
"You have been very good to her, very, and I'm sure her family are
extremely grateful."
"In that case, Monsignor, doesn't it seem to you that I am entitled to
know why she is being so suddenly taken away from me, and what is the
change in life which Mr. O'Neill referred to in his letter?"
The smile which had been playing upon the Bishop's face was smitten away
from it by that question, and he looked anxiously across at my father.
"Tell her," said my father, and then, while my heart thumped in my bosom
and the Reverend Mother stroked my hand to compose me, the Bishop gave a
brief explanation.
The time had not come when it would be prudent to be more definite, but
he might say that Mr. O'Neill was trying to arrange a happy and enviable
future for his daughter, and therefore he wished her to return home to
prepare for it.
"Does that mean marriage?" said the Reverend Mother.
"It may be so. I am not quite prepared to . . ."
"And that a husband has already been found for her?"
"That too perhaps. I will not say . . ."
"Monsignor," said the Reverend Mother, sitting up with dignity "is that
fair?"
"Fair?"
"Is it fair that after ten years in which her father has done nothing
for her, he should determine what her life is to be, without regard to
her wish and will?"