"Last night!" said Father Francis; "how can that he? He was never out of my sight till we went to bed."
"Oh, there I beg to differ," said the lady. "While you were all tippling in the dining-room, he was better employed; making love by moonlight. And, oh what a terrible thing opportunity is; and the moon another. There! what with the moonlight—and my pitying him so—and all he has suffered for me—and my being rich now, and having something to give him—we two are engaged. See, else: this was his mother's ring; and he has mine."
"Mr. Neville?"
"Mr. Neville? No. My old servant, to be sure. What, do you think I would go and marry for wealth, when I have enough and to spare of my own? Oh! what an opinion you must have of me."
Father Francis was staggered by this adroit thrust. However, after a considerable silence, he recovered himself, and inquired, gravely, why she had given him no hint of all this the other night, when he had diverted her from a convent and advised her to marry Neville.
"That you never did, I'll be sworn," said Kate.
Father Francis reflected. "Not in so many words, perhaps; but I said enough to show you."
"Oh!" said Kate, "such a matter was too serious for hints and innuendoes: if you wanted me to jilt my old servant and wed an acquaintance of yesterday, why not say so plainly? I dare say I should have obeyed you, and been unhappy for life; but now my honor is solemnly engaged; my faith is plighted; and were even you to urge me to break faith, and behave dishonorably, I should resist. I would never take poison, and die."
Father Francis looked at her steadily, and she colored to the brow.
"You are a very apt young lady," said he; "you have outwitted your director. That may be my fault as much as yours; so I advise you to provide yourself with another director, whom you will be unable, or unwilling, to outwit."