“You shall see her, of course; but not just now. She is in bed, attended by a Sister of Charity, whom she telegraphed for.”
“Can I see that lady?”
“Certainly.”
Sister Gratiosa was sent for, and, in reply to Little's anxious inquiries, told him that Sister Amata had been very much shaken by the terrible events of the night, and absolute repose was necessary to her. In further conversation she told him she was aware of Sister Amata's unhappy story, and had approved her retirement from Hillsborough, under all the circumstances; but that now, after much prayer to God for enlightenment, she could not but think it was the Sister's duty, as a Christian woman, to stay at home and nurse the afflicted man whose name she bore, and above all devote herself to his spiritual welfare.
“Oh, that is your notion, is it?” said Henry. “Then you are no friend of mine.”
“I am no enemy of yours, nor of any man, I hope. May I ask you one question, without offense?”
“Certainly.”
“Have you prayed to God to guide you in this difficulty?”
“No.”
“Then seek his throne without delay; and, until you have done so, do not rashly condemn my views of this matter, since I have sought for wisdom where alone it is to be found.”