“The queerest part of it all is,” observed Beatrice, “that the old prophecy did come true in a way:
“‘If hatred turns to love before
Trouble will not cross the door.’
“Uncle and I thought of it, you may be sure. If Uncle Max had not repented when he did, he would surely have had concussion of the brain or some awful thing.”
Billie smiled.
“Do you believe that?” she asked. “It was just a coincidence, of course.”
“Call it whatever you like. It did come out just as the old rhyme said it would,” answered Beatrice. “I could tell you queerer things than this that have happened to some of the old families in Ireland and England.”
“But what made him repent, Beatrice?” asked Billie.
“Who can tell what makes such things happen? Perhaps he suddenly saw himself as he really was; or perhaps he had a vision. It has happened before in this family. They do say that the ancestor who built this old abbey was a wild and lawless character and he reformed and entered a monastery, and then he built the abbey as a monument of his repentance, I suppose.”
“What would he think of it now, I wonder?” thought Billie.
It was growing late and the two girls turned back and presently joined their friends in the refectory.