“That is what I have come for,” answered the priest, smiling.
The doors, meanwhile, had been thrown open; the priest passed in, followed by Paul.
When they reached the court-yard the priest stopped. “Will you kindly tell me your business?”
“It concerns Miss Bruce, an American who has only been here a few days. She came, supposing that the death of my brother was due to an act of hers; I have just learned that she is completely mistaken, he died from another cause.”
“God be praised! She has been very unhappy—very,” said the priest, with sympathy. “This will relieve her.”
“I should like to see her.—The whole community can be present, if you please.”
“That will hardly be necessary,” said Father Ambrose, smiling again. He went towards the door by the side of the chapel. “I will tell her myself, I will go at once.” He opened the door.
“I prefer to see her. You have no real authority over her, she has not yet taken the vows.”
“There has been no talk of vows,” said Father Ambrose, waving his hand with an amused air. “Every one is free here, I don’t know what you are thinking of! If you will give me your address, Miss Bruce will write to you.”
“Do you refuse to let me see her?”