Time, Change, Birth, Death—she, too, was floating on their multi-coloured waters.
“Do you think your father is in hell?” she asked suddenly.
He winced.
“I don’t think so,” he answered, after a pause: “It isn’t as if he’d seen the light and turned away from it. I think he’ll be in Purgatory,” and he looked at her questioningly.
She was touched—this young seminarist was still quite free from the dogmatism and harshness of the priest.
“You know the legend, don’t you,” she said gently, “that the prayers of St. Gregory the Great got the soul of the Emperor Trajan into Paradise?”
“Is that so?” he cried eagerly.
“Yes; he was the just pagan par excellence, and the prayers of St. Gregory saved his soul.”
The door opened and Parker came in: “Excuse me, miss, but have you seen Miss Concha? It’s about that old lace ... Madame wishes to see if it can be draped without being cut.”
“No, Parker, I have not seen her.”