Michael sat down.
"Please tell me everything," he said.
The Père Anselme spread out his thin hands toward the warmth of the china, while he remained standing opposite his visitor.
"The good God at last put it into the mind of the Lord Fordyce that our Dame d'Héronac has not been altogether happy of late—and upon my suggestion he questioned her as to the cause of this, and learned what I believe to be the truth—which you, sir, can corroborate—namely, that you are her husband and are obtaining the divorce not from desire, but from a motive of loyalty to your friend."
"That is the case," assented Michael quietly, a sudden great joy in his heart.
The priest was silent, so he went on:
"And what does Lord Fordyce mean to do?—release her and give her back to me—or what, mon Père?"
"Is it necessary to ask?" and Père Anselme lifted questioning and almost whimsical eyebrows. "Surely you must know that your friend is a gentleman!"
"Yes, I know that—but it must mean the most awful suffering to him—poor, dear old Henry—Is he quite knocked out?"
"The good God tries no one beyond his strength—he will find consolation. But, meanwhile, it will be well that you let me offer you the hospitality of my poor house for rest and refreshment"—here the old man made a courtly bow—"and when you have eaten and perhaps bathed, you can take the road to the Château of Héronac, where you will find Lord Fordyce by the garden wall, and he will perhaps take you to Madame Sabine. That is as he may think wisest—I believe she is quite unprepared. Of the reception you are likely to receive from her you are the best judge yourself."