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was audible but the steady tick-tick of the clock.

"We have not been very long acquainted," Winterfield resumed.



"But our association has been a pleasant one, and I think I owe

to you the duty of a friend. I don't belong to your Church; bu t



I hope you will believe me when I say that ignorant prejudice

against the Catholic priesthood is not one of _my_ prejudices."



Father Benwell bowed, in silence.

"You are mentioned," Winterfield proceeded, "in the letter which



I have just read."

"Are you at liberty to tell me the name of your correspondent?"



Father Benwell asked.

"I am not at liberty to do that. But I think it due to you, and



to myself, to tell you what the substance of the letter is. The

writer warns me to be careful in my intercourse with you. Your



object (I am told) is to make yourself acquainted with events in

my past life, and you have some motive which my correspondent has



thus far failed to discover. I speak plainly, but I beg you to

understand that I also speak impartially. I condemn no man



unheard--least of all, a man whom I have had the honor of

receiving under my own roof."



He spoke with a certain simple dignity. With equal dignity,

Father Benwell answered. It is needless to say that he now knew



Winterfield's correspondent to be Romayne's wife.

"Let me sincerely thank you, Mr. Winterfield, for a candor which



does honor to us both," he said. "You will hardly expect me--if I

may use such an expression--to condescend to justify myself



against an accusation which is an anonymousaccusation so far as

I am concerned. I prefer to meet that letter by a plain proof;



and I leave you to judge whether I am still worthy of the

friendship to which you have so kindly alluded."



With this preface he brieflyrelated the circumstances under

which he had become possessed of the packet, and then handed it



to Winterfield--with the seal uppermost.

"Decide for yourself," he concluded, "whether a man bent on



prying into your private affairs, with that letter entirely at

his mercy, would have been true to the trust reposed in him."



He rose and took his hat, ready to leave the room, if his honor

was profaned by the slightest expression of distrust.



Winterfield's genial and unsuspicious nature instantly accepted

the offered proof as conclusive. "Before I break the seal," he



said, "let me do you justice. Sit down again, Father Benwell, and

forgive me if my sense of duty has hurried me into hurting your



feelings. No man ought to know better than I do how often people

misjudge and wrong each other."



They shook hands cordially. No moral relief is more eagerly

sought than relief from the pressure of a serious explanation. By



common consent, they now spoke as lightly as if nothing had

happened. Father Benwell set the example.



"You actually believe in a priest!" he said gayly. "We shall make

a good Catholic of you yet."



"Don't be too sure of that," Winterfield replied, with a touch of

his quaint humor. "I respect the men who have given to humanity



the inestimable blessing of quinine--to say nothing of preserving

learning and civilization--but I respect still more my own



liberty as a free Christian."

"Perhaps a free thinker, Mr. Winterfield?"



"Anything you like to call it, Father Benwell, so long as it _is_

free."



They both laughed. Father Benwell went back to his newspaper.

Winterfield broke the seal of the envelope and took out the



inclosures.

The confession was the first of the papers at which he happened



to look. At the opening lines he turned pale. He read more, and

his eyes filled with tears. In low broken tones he said to the



priest, "You have innocently brought me most distressing news. I

entreat your pardon if I ask to be left alone."



Father Benwell said a few well-chosen words of sympathy, and

immediately withdrew. The dog licked his master's hand, hanging






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