“My maid,” she said, “thy father may think I have not kept my word. I ought to have told Father Bruno. I never thought of it, when he first came. I am very sorry. Has he talked with thee on matters of religion at all?”
“Yes.” Belasez explained no further.
“Dear, dear!” said the Countess. “He meant well, I suppose. And of course it is better thy soul should be saved. But I wish he had less zeal and more discretion.”
“Lady,” said Belasez, pausing for an instant, “if ever I enter the kingdom of the Blessed One above, I think I shall owe it to the Bishop of Lincoln and to Father Bruno.”
“That is well, no doubt,” responded the Countess, in a very doubtful tone. “Oh dear! what did make Father Bruno think of coming up here?”
As Belasez passed down towards the hall, Father Bruno himself met her on the stairs.
“Whither goest thou, my child?” he asked in some surprise.
“I am going—away.” Belasez’s tears choked her voice.
“To thy father’s house?”
She bowed.