The wise priest well knew the greater likelihood of complete confidence in the night, rather than the day.
“I will see you at eleven. If Cicely Adair is able to come here, bring her to me, please, Miss Braithwaite. If not, call me up and I will go to see her at your house.”
“Do you want to see me, Father Morley? But there is the office; I must be at the office by half past nine anyway,” said Cis.
“Call Mr. Lucas, and tell him, what is strictly true, that you are not able to report for duty to-morrow. I would tell him for you, but that an explanation from me would bias him against your absence so powerfully that he’d rather send an officer to hale you to his office than permit your staying away.” Father Morley laughed, a quietly amused, inward laugh of enjoyment.
“Lucas? Wilmer Lucas? Oh, I’ll attend to that!” cried Miss Braithwaite. “He and I clasp hands, in spite of the Roman shackles on mine. He knows that my grandfather was intensely Protestant, and he allows me a slight latitude for the sake of his honored memory. We often meet in Beaconhite affairs, and he regards me as a good citizen, which also helps to fumigate me! He owes me several small debts for favors received. I’ll call him up and tell him that I have his bright-haired secretary—are you his secretary? I didn’t know—in my keeping and will return her when she is better. Then Miss Adair will come to you at eleven, Father, unless I call you up. Good night, Father Morley. Thank you for giving me a companion for to-night.”
Father Morley opened the gate for them, and took Cicely’s hand in his, holding the gate open with his left hand.
“Good night, my child,” he said gently. “May God have you in His keeping, and do you hold Him tight, keeping to Him. Only say in your heart: ‘God help me!’ and it is done! No fear of failure, wrapped around in His light and His might!”
Cis bowed her head instinctively to receive the blessing which this wonderful man gave to her, his face tender and pitiful, grave yet triumphant, as he feared for her, yet confidently hoped that she would let God have His way with her at last.
Miss Braithwaite put Cicely into her car and followed her, placing herself behind the wheel, liberating the brake and setting the engine running.
“Good-bye, Father,” she said. “Send St. Michael around to my house to watch over us through the night after you’ve said your night prayers, please. Thank you for letting me have this Cicely Adair.”