“Oh!” she murmured, her eagerness subsiding. “Then I’ve made an awful mistake!”
“No,” he amended gently, “you have made a good friend. And, as such, I again urge you first to respect the leaning which you mentioned a moment ago and become actively affiliated with our Church here in New York. Both you and the young lady. Will you not consider it?”
“Certainly I will consider it,” she responded, brightening with hope. “And I will go so far as to say that I have long had it in mind.”
“Then, Madam, when that is accomplished, we may discuss the less important matter of your ward’s entrance into society––is it not so?”
Mrs. Hawley-Crowles rose, completely discomfited. “But the girl, Monsignor, is already a Catholic––comes from a Catholic country. It is she whom I am pitting against the Protestant.”
“And you will efface yourself?” he queried with a peculiar smile.
“You are cruel,” she retorted, affecting an air of injured innocence as she stood before him with downcast eyes. “But––if you––”
“Madam,” said Monsignor, “plainly, what is it that you wish me to do?”
The sudden propounding of the question drew an equally sudden but less thoughtful response.
“Tell the Beau––Madam Beaubien that you wish my ward to be received into the best society, and for the reasons I have given you. That’s all.”