Miss Braithwaite turned away as she spoke, and met Father Morley just coming in.
After a few words with him, Cis ran away to write to Nan, and Miss Braithwaite laid before the Jesuit her summer plan.
When she told him that Anselm Lancaster was likely to be added to the party, Father Morley lifted his eyebrows inquiringly, without a word.
“Yes, of course,” Miss Braithwaite agreed with him. “I see, but I don’t know, truly. I do know that the idea never crosses Cicely’s mind, and so, though I understand how and why the approaches to her mind are guarded against the entrance of the idea, still, it does seem to me that there can’t be ground for our entertaining it. It’s hard for me to believe in the novel heroine who has no suspicion that she is sought until the hero plumps himself down on his knees at her feet! I think, as a rule, a woman feels even the dawn of interest in her, the power of her attraction, before any onlooker can sense it.”
“If she doesn’t subtly suggest to him that he admires her?” suggested Father Morley, with his quizzical half-smile.
“You’ve been reading George Bernard Shaw!” cried Miss Braithwaite.
“Nonsense! I’m ashamed of you! Thackeray said it before he did, but in point of fact one needs to read neither of them to know that law of natural history,” said Father Morley. “Well, and if Cicely’s preoccupation were wrong, and our half-formed suspicion were right, how about it? Would it do?”
“At first I thought not, when it occurred to me,” said Miss Braithwaite. “I do not believe that two people can be happy together if the door to the deepest tastes and feelings of one will not yield to the hand of the other. To my mind it is madness to expect life to be anything but galling when it is lived in close proximity to a person to whom one may not speak of the things nearest to the heart whether for lack of sympathy in tastes or, still more, in principles. But I have come to think that, in this case, there would not be that lack; Cicely has an excellent mind, and rare perception; her big heart and loyal truth are rare. I am coming to think that it would do exceedingly well, and to fear that it may never happen. Would you approve it, Father?”
“Oh, yes; yes, indeed! I make it a rule to approve everything of that sort to which there is no actual objection. I’ve found that is the easiest way to an end that is sure to be reached, whatever I say,” replied Father Morley with his quiet smile, his eyes laughing at Miss Braithwaite’s chagrin at his provoking lack of enthusiasm.
“Well, I assure you it would be a lucky man who married Cis. She is a splendid girl,” Miss Braithwaite declared, as Cis came back in time to catch the last five words.