"Yes, to a priest. You can not think that strange if you remember that the priest is trained in the most special and careful manner, as well as enlightened by God, in order to enable him to deal with such difficulties."
There was silence for a minute or two, while Marion, leaning back in her chair, looked up at the deep-blue sky, and some golden boughs that crossed it. Presently she said, in a meditative tone:—
"There do not seem to be any difficulties to speak of in this case, but I should not mind putting it before some one altogether outside of it, and without any interest in it. Still, I could not go to a priest, because I am no Catholic."
"You are more of a Catholic than anything else," said Helen. "You know that. And I think if you went to Father Byrne, and put the abstract question to him, he would tell you what is right."
"You forget that I have no right to go to him. It would be presumption on my part. Why should I, who do not belong to his people, trouble him with my personal affairs?"
Helen smiled. "You don't know Father Byrne," she answered. "He is always glad to serve any one. I know that, even as a friend, he would gladly advise you. I will ask him, if you consent."
"Ask him what?"
"To see you and tell you what he thinks."
"Helen, you should not tempt me to make myself a nuisance. Besides, Father Byrne does not like me, and that renders me more reluctant to trouble him."
"What has put such an absurd idea into your head? Why should he not like you?"