He motioned to me to keep silence, and hastily turned the conversation.
When we were left alone he explained his reasons. "I gave her the money for an indulgence letter last week, and she purchased one from one of Dr. Tetzel's company," he said; "and when she returned her heart seemed lighter than I have seen it for years, since God smote us for our sins, and little Dietrich died. I would not have had her robbed of that little bit of comfort for the world, be it true or false."
Theirs was a sad story, common enough in every town and village as regarded the sin, and only uncommon as to the longing for better things which yet lingered in the hearts of the guilty.
I suggested her returning to her kindred or entering a convent.
"She has no kindred left that would receive her," he said; "and to send her to be scorned and disciplined by a community of nuns—never!"
"But her soul!" I said, "and yours?"
"The blessed Lord received such," he answered almost fiercely, "before the Pharisees."
"Such received Him!" I said quietly, "but receiving Him they went and sinned no more."
"And when did God ever say it was sin for a priest to marry?" he asked; "not in the Old Testament, for the son of Elkanah the priest and Hannah ministered before the Lord in the temple, as perhaps our little Dietrich," he added in a low tone, "ministers before Him in his temple now. And where in the New Testament do you find it forbidden?"
"The Church forbids it," I said.