"There is no too late or too early for that; I am always ready," said the priest. "But how is your mother?"
"Ah!—--"
Her voice failed.
"More trouble?"
"Ah, sir, I have made trouble. Oh, Père Jerome, I am bringing so much trouble upon my poor mother!"
Père Jerome moved slowly toward the house, with his eyes cast down, the veiled girl at his side.
"It is not your fault," he presently said. And after another pause: "I thought it was all arranged."
He looked up and could see, even through the veil, her crimson blush.
"Oh, no," she replied, in a low, despairing voice, dropping her face.
"What is the difficulty?" asked the priest, stopping in the angle of the path, where it turned toward the front of the house.