"Yes, Jane, you are right. What a girl! But it is my little Maureen whom I am thinking of."
"Ah," she returned quickly, "I could do with one like Maureen."
The Rector went on to describe Maureen's present state of mind. In doing so, he broke down completely.
"She says, that dear and faithful, loving heart, that the Spirit of God has forsaken her and that something evil and awful has entered into her."
"Send her to me for three months and I will cure her," said Jane Faithful; "poor lamb, poor pretty dear. Why, she woke up to find herself that time."
"But I cannot do without her," said Patrick O'Brien. "She is the light and life of my existence, and Colonel Herbert, a near neighbour, is equally devoted to her, and Denis and Dominic and little Kitty all worship her. I cannot give my darling up."
"Well, I intend to make a bargain with you," said Mrs. Faithful. "I don't want those girls at my school. It will be necessary for me to devote a special governess to them, and even she will not be able to prevent them from contaminating the others. I have forty girls at Felicity at the present moment. The two you have brought make two and forty, and are forty to be injured for the sake of two? It isn't to be done. There is only one person who can really save those miserable girls, and that person is Maureen O'Brien. Send her to me. She has her work cut out for her here. It is with me she ought to be at present, helping me with those two. I'll look after her and see that she is not tormented in any way. She shall sleep in the Chamber of Peace and that Chamber ensures good dreams and sweet slumber. I have a special governess, who comes to me occasionally but not always, for luckily I do not require her always. I shall put that choice pair under her jurisdiction. Luckily she happens to be in the house at the present moment. Her name is Joan Pinchin. She is rather old-fashioned and firm as a rock. She is well educated, and will put the Mostyns through their p's and q's. The girls will sleep in Penitence and do their lessons with her in Correction until Maureen arrives. Joan Pinchin will take them out for necessary exercise. She will be by no means cruel to them, but she will be firm, firm as a rock. Now, is it yes or no? If it is no, you'd best take them back with you to-morrow morning, for I can have nothing more to say to them. There, Patrick, take a night to think over it. Your child shall return to you when her work is done. Now for Peace and the Chamber of Dreams, poor, tired, distracted kinsman. The best train in the day leaves Lutterworth at eight in the morning, and I'll have a cab for one or three of you according to what you decide in order to catch that train. The Angel of Peace be with you and give you rest, Patrick O'Brien."
The distracted Rector found himself in one of the sweetest, purest rooms he had ever seen. It was all white; white paper on the walls, a little snow-white bed, a white wardrobe with a long glass, a white chest of drawers, a white dressing-table, everything white, white as snow. The windows had white blinds to them and were draped with white muslin curtains frilled all round. There was a curious feeling about the room. Try as you would you could not be fretful here. Like Christian in the Pilgrim's Progress, you had to cast your burden outside that door, for you could not take it in. It seemed as though good angels loved to make this white room their home. There were one or two engravings, different pictures of childhood, Reynolds's immortal angels, and a few more, not many, done in pen and ink by well known painters, who had come to celebrity long ago and had given some of the early fruits of their toil to Jane Faithful. All the pictures were either of children or of angels, children in prayer, Fra Angelico's Angels, but there were not many—the walls were mostly bare. On a little table near the bed lay a large Bible, on the dressing-table stood a bowl of white roses, on the dressing-table also was a small exquisitely clean paraffin lamp.
The whiteness and the purity of the room seemed to get into the innermost heart of the Rector. He fell on his knees by the little bed and tears came to his eyes. After a short time, although he had not uttered a word of prayer, he felt strangely, marvellously peaceful, also very sleepy. He undressed and laid his head on the snowy pillow. Immediately he fell asleep.