"But why come to me?" he asked. "Has she not her own spiritual guides?"
"Marion!" said Helen. She laughed a little. "I cannot fancy Marion regarding any Protestant as a spiritual guide; and since, as you say, she is not a Catholic, she has none at all. But I believe that her becoming a Catholic is only a question of time, and therefore she will have confidence in your opinion."
Father Byrne put out his lip still farther and shook his head. "I do not know very much of the young lady," he replied; "but from what I do know I should say that her ever becoming a Catholic is more than doubtful."
"I am afraid that you are prejudiced against her, Father," said Helen.
"I think not," he answered, gravely. "Why should I be prejudiced against any one? But I should profit very little by my experience of the world if I did not learn to judge character from some manifestations. I do not wish to say anything severe of your cousin, my child, but she has not impressed me favorably."
"Poor Marion!" said Helen. "She is and always has been her own worst enemy. Nobody knows her as well as I do, Father—that is, nobody except Claire;—and know how much good there really is in her. All that is worse is on the surface; and she shows it so recklessly that people think there is nothing else. But I see a great change in her of late, and I think it would be well to encourage her in anything that draws her nearer to religious influences. Therefore, if it is not asking too much of you to see her and give her a little advice on this matter, which is so important to her, I should be very glad."
"Should you?" asked the good priest, smiling. "Well, to make you glad in such an unselfish way I would do a good deal. There is really no reason why I should not give Miss Lynde the counsel she asks, though it is rather curious that she should seek it from me. You can bring her to me whenever it is convenient for you; and, if she does not object, I should wish you to be present at the interview."
"She will not object," answered Helen; "and it is very good of you to consent. I can bring her immediately, for I left her in the church while I came to you. There is need for haste, because to-morrow probably she will have to decide finally what she is to do."
"Bring her, then, at once," said Father Byrne, with an air of resignation. He felt, though he did not say, that his own people troubled him quite sufficiently with their personal affairs, without an outsider finding it expedient to throw upon him the very perplexing burden of decision in an affair which involved the interests of others. And Marion Lynde was the last person with whose affairs he would have wished to be concerned in the least degree. If any one beside Helen had come to him in her behalf, he would certainly have refused to do so; but it was impossible for him to refuse Helen. It was not only that he was attached to her, as, in one degree or another, every one who knew her was; but he was specially touched by her interest in and kindness to one who had certainly been the cause of much pain to her, if not of serious injury. "If she had not the most generous heart in the world, she would not vex herself about Miss Lynde's affairs," he said to himself; "but since she does, I should not mind helping her a little."
So it came to pass that Helen brought Marion from the church to the pastoral residence adjoining, where they found Father Byrne awaiting them in the plainly-furnished sitting-room, which had yet a picturesque, monastic suggestion from the religious objects that were its only adornments, and its latticed windows opening on depths of verdure. The priest received them kindly; and then, with some inward nervousness, though outward composure, Marion opened her subject.