"No; for it was not true. We just happened to meet, and he helped me when I was single-handed. He confessed afterwards that he had said everything he could to shock me—to put me to the test. He has grown up distrusting all religious professions."
"A scoffer? Did not even that warn you?"
"No; under the circumstances it seemed the most natural thing; it showed me that he was honest."
These sounded dreadful words to the Archbishop, coming from his daughter's lips; he felt that, in passing from theory to practice she had become shockingly latitudinarian in her views; and again, cautious and circumspect, he shifted his ground.
"My dear," he said, "you do realize, I suppose, that from a worldly point of view the Prince has committed a very grave indiscretion."
She smiled. "He tells me so himself; it rather pleases him. But now the King has given his consent."
"Yes, nominally he has," replied the Archbishop. "But in that there is a good deal more than meets the eye. When his Majesty first gave that promise he never intended that it should take effect."
She paled slightly at his words, and he saw that only now had he scored a point.
"Why do you think that?"
"I do not think it, I know; but I am not at liberty to reveal secrets of State. Let us put that aside, I cannot give you proof; if you wish to disbelieve it, do. But now I come to my main point. There is a side to this question about which you know nothing, but you know that in the State to-day the Church has her enemies. This indiscretion on the part of the Prince, supported by a promise from which the King cannot in honor withdraw, has suddenly put into my hands a great opportunity which must not be missed."