She threw her head back, with the gesture of a fawn in flight. "Why should you say that?"
"I say what I know. I read your heart. And it is right that you should love him."
"No! For he insulted me."
"You thought so. It was a deceiving thought. Let him prove it false. Come to my garden to-morrow, and I will bring him to you there. I would not say this unless I were sure of him. And I tell you again, his salvation is in you. You have driven him to the drug of forgetfulness. You owe it to his soul to give him justice. For the rest, let him plead."
"Madame Veentaire and Meestaire Carleton," announced the shabby man-servant, blundering abruptly in, as if the door had broken away in front of him.
The fire died out of the priest's face, but there was no sense of defeat in his eyes. His calm after excitement was communicated subtly to Mary, and enabled her to greet her new guests without confusion.
The curé bowed with old-fashioned politeness, and with a slight fluttering of the voice Mary made him known to the chaplain's wife and Dick Carleton.
"But we know each other already, Monsieur le Curé and I," exclaimed Rose, putting out her hand. She explained this to Mary with her bright, enthusiastic smile. "My husband and I take long walks together. One of our first was up to Roquebrune; and we went into the church—such a huge, important church for a little hill town! Monsieur le Curé was there, and we talked, and he showed us the picture under a curtain. How I do love pictures under curtains, don't you? They're so beautifully mysterious. And through a door there was a glimpse of fairyland. I couldn't believe it was real—I hardly believe so now, though Monsieur le Curé waved his wand and made us free of the place, as if it were a 'truly' garden. Have you been there yet, Miss Grant?"
"I was just inviting her to come for the first time, to-morrow," said the curé. "Advise her to accept, Madame, for three o'clock."
"Indeed I do!" Rose smiled from him to Mary.