Through the girl's confession, Garnet's attitude remained unchanged. At her first words he started, but with an effort controlled himself. The sudden revelation that their plans were known by one outside those who composed the little band consecrated to the holy cause, filled him with a terror which, at first, reason was unable to check. But as she proceeded, the quick mind of the priest perceived that the girl's one thought was, not to save the King, nor to defeat their hopes, but only to deliver her father from the danger to which he was exposed. The fear gradually passed away, and as Elinor ceased speaking, the strongest feeling in the prelate's mind was one of sympathy for her who wept before him.
"Is there naught," Garnet inquired, mildly, when the girl had finished, "that thou can'st see to justify thy father's act, and by that justification bring to thee consolation? Think, even though he were marked to die, more honor belongs to him in this, than to live to old age in idleness and inactivity. Dwell upon thy love for him, then meditate on his love for the Church."
"Nay," she answered, "my knee doth bend before the altar with as great a reverence as any who do honor to the Host, and were my father to fall in open conflict I would not grudge his life given to a noble cause. But this act is not loyalty to God, for, did He not decree, 'Thou shalt not kill?' 'Tis naught but murder; and if my father fall, he will not meet death as a martyr, but as a common assassin."
Garnet was silent; the girl's words sounded strangely to him. Not wishing to reveal his identity he determined to avoid further argument, fearing suspicions might be raised in Elinor's mind which would only make matters worse. What course to pursue he did not know. As far as circumstances permitted, he would help her, but how to effect this was beyond his present comprehension.
"I have not told thee in vain? Thou wilt aid me?" she inquired.
"My child, I must have time to meditate," answered the Jesuit. "I cannot give thee advice upon such a weighty matter without due deliberation; but," he added hastily, "all is safe for a time at least; thy father is in France."
"I pray God," exclaimed the girl, "that I shall not have reason to regret opening my heart unto thee. Nay, thou couldst not be so cruel as to make known what I have told. Swear," she cried in sudden fear, noting a strange expression on the other's face, "swear thou wilt keep secret all I have revealed."
"Alarm not thyself," replied the prelate; "what thou hast uttered is as safe as if 'twere said under the seal of the confessional. Know further, thou hast told thy trouble to one who will ever cherish the confidence, even if his help avail thee little. But," added he, tenderly—in the sincerity of his heart forgetting the sword which hung at his side—"may the peace of Him whose hand was ready to turn the water into wine, or raise the widow's son, descend and give thee relief."
"Thou speakest like a priest," she said.
Garnet started, but quickly replied, "Never could a priest grant thee absolution with a gladder heart, than I would release thee from this trouble, were it in my power, and were it the will of God that I should do so."