This remonstrance produced rather a striking effect on both those who heard it. Mrs. Gaunt seemed much struck with it. She leaned back in her chair, and put her hand to her brow with a sort of despairing gesture that Griffith could not very well understand: it seemed to him so disproportionate.
It softened him, however, and he faltered out, "Ay, father, that is how it all began. Would to heaven it had stopped there."
Francis resumed. "This false step led to consequences you never dreamed of; for one of your romantic notions is, that a priest is an angel. I have known you, in former times, try to take me for an angel: then would I throw cold water on your folly by calling lustily for chines of beef and mugs of ale. But I suppose Leonard thought himself an angel too; and the upshot was, he fell in love with his neighbour's wife."
"And she with him," groaned Griffith.
"Not so," said Francis; "but perhaps she was nearer it than she thinks."
"Prove that," said Mrs. Gaunt, "and I'll fall on my knees to him before you."
Francis smiled, and proceeded. "To be sure, from the moment you discovered Leonard was in love with you, you drew back, and conducted yourself with prudence and propriety. Read these letters, sir, and tell me what you think of them."
He handed them to Griffith. Griffith's hand trembled visibly as he took them.
"Stay," said Father Francis; "your better way will be to read the whole correspondence according to their dates. Begin with this of Mrs. Gaunt's."
Griffith read the letter in an audible whisper.