"I merely said that I prefer that you should go at once," was the cold reply.
Maurice rose briskly. His impulse was to retort sharply, but he held himself in check.
"Very well," he answered. "I shall take it as a favor if you will let Philip know that I did not willingly leave him without a word. It would hurt him to think that."
"The wounds of earth," the Father Superior said gravely, "are the joys of heaven."
Maurice stood an instant with a keen desire to reply, to break down this icy statue of religion; then he drew back.
"I will not trouble you longer," he said. "Good-by."
"Good-by, Mr. Wynne," the other responded with the manner of one addressing a stranger.
Maurice went to his chamber thoroughly aroused and excited. The restraint which he had put on himself during the talk with Father Frontford brought now its reaction. He rehearsed in his mind the telling and caustic things which he might have said, then laughed at himself for his unnecessary fervor. He packed his belongings, and, leaving them to be called for, set out for the house of his cousin. To go out from the Clergy House seemed to him like the ending of a life.
Mrs. Staggchase was fortunately at home. It seemed to Maurice that her keen eyes took in the whole story from his secular dress. He blushed as she gave him her hand.
"Well, my dear boy," she observed, "you have come to luncheon, I suppose, because the fare at the Clergy House is so poor in Lent. Sit down, and give me an account of your doings last night. I trust that you saw Mrs. Wilson safe home."