Dora at once demanded a confessor; and while John Rieler hastened to do her bidding, Clarence and her brother brought her to the students’ chapel. For the first time in four long, long months, Dora had the privilege of visiting the Blessed Sacrament. Presently a confessor arrived, the young sinner entered the confessional, and came out within a few minutes in an almost perceptible aura of peace and joy.
The President, in the meantime, had returned. He was awaiting them outside.
“Well,” he said, “everything has been arranged. Ben is to be buried at the Bohemian Church tomorrow at seven o’clock. Will Benton, you should serve; and you may get John Rieler to help you.”
“Thank you, Father,” cried Will.
“On Sunday next—the day after—Ben’s wife and children will be received into the Church. They are now quartered with a friend of mine in the lower town.”
Dora grew happier than ever.
“I want to be received with them, Father,” pleaded Clarence.
“I can’t grant you that permission, I fear, Clarence. Besides, you need instruction.”
“But I’ve had instruction already—at least,” Clarence added, correcting himself, “I’ve had some. Dora told me a lot, and I’ve done some reading.”
“And I’ll teach you enough, Clarence, before Sunday,” said the girl.