"Had she hurt you?"
"That she did: but only my head. I hurt her heart; for the poor wench loves me dear; the Lord knows for what."
"Humph!—proceed to Pride."
"Yes, father. I do confess that I was greatly puffed up with the praises of men. I was proud of the sorriest things; of jumping a brook, when 'twas my horse jumped it, and had jumped it better with a fly on his back than the poor worm Me; of my good looks, forgetting that God gave them me; and besides I am no beauty when all is done; it is all their flattery. And at my Lady Munster's dinner I pridefully walked out before Mistress Davies, the rich cheesemonger's wife, that is as proud of her money as I of my old blood (God forgive two fools!); which I had no right to do; a maid to walk before a wife: and oh, father, I whispered the gentleman who led me out; it was Mr. Neville—" Here the penitent put one hand before her face, and hesitated.
"Well, daughter! half confession is no confession. You said to Mr. Neville——?"
"I said, 'Nothing comes after cheese.'"
This revelation was made most dolefully.
"It was pert and unbecoming," said Father Francis, gravely; though a twinkle in his eye showed that he was not so profoundly shocked as his penitent appeared to be. "But go to graver matters. Immodesty, said you: I shall be very sorry if this is so. You did not use to be immodest."
"Well, father, I hope I have not altogether laid aside modesty; otherwise it would be time for me to die, let alone to confess; but sure it cannot be modest of me to ride after a gentleman and take him a letter. And then that was not enough: I heard of a duel, and what did I do but ride to Scutchemsee Nob, and interfere. What gentlewoman ever was so bold? I was not their wife you know; neither of them's."
"Humph!" said the priest, "I have already heard a whisper of this; but told to your credit. Beati pacifici: blessed are the peacemakers. You had better lay that matter before me by-and-by, as your director. As your confessor, tell me why you accuse yourself of Luxury."