She did not answer immediately. She looked away, and, still avoiding his gaze, said, timidly: “I thought I would tell you, Father Damon, that I'm—that I'm in trouble. I don't know what to do.”
“Have you repented of your sin?” asked he, with a little softening of his tone. “Did you want to come to me for help?”
“He's deserted me,” said the girl, looking down, absorbed in her own misery, and not heeding his question.
“Ah, so that is what you are sorry for?” The severe, reproving tone had come back to his voice.
“And they don't want me in the shop any more.”
The priest hesitated. Was he always to preach against sin, to strive to extirpate it, and yet always to make it easy for the sinner? This girl must realize her guilt before he could do her any good. “Are you sorry for what you have done?”
“Yes, I'm sorry,” she replied. Wasn't to be in deep trouble to be sorry? And then she looked up, and continued with the thought in her mind, “I didn't know who else to go to.”
“Well, my child, if you are sorry, and want to lead a different life, come to me at the mission and I will try to help you.”
The priest, with a not unkindly good-by, passed on. The girl stood a moment irresolute, and then went on her way heavily and despondent. What good would it do her to go to the mission now?
Three days later Dr. Leigh was waiting at the mission chapel to speak with the rector after the vesper service. He came out pale and weary, and the doctor hesitated to make known her errand when she saw how exhausted he was.