A gleam of humor appeared in Father Duvair's eyes, and he glanced towards the apparently careless girl seated in the hammock.
"You will take the cheque, father," said Agapit, "otherwise it will cause me great pain."
The priest reluctantly took the slip of paper from him, then, lifting his hat, he said to Bidiane, "I have the honor to wish you good morning, mademoiselle."
"Monsieur le curé," she said, disconsolately, rising and coming towards him, "you must not think me too wicked."
"Mademoiselle, you do not do yourself justice," he said, gravely.
Bidiane's eyes wandered to the spots of moisture on his cassock. "I wish that rum had been in the Bay," she said; "yet, monsieur le curé, Mr. Greening is a very bad man."
"Charity, charity, mademoiselle. We all speak hastily at times. Shall I tell you what I think of you?"
"Yes, yes, monsieur le curé, if you please."
"I think that you have a good heart, but a hasty judgment. You will, like many others, grow wise as you grow older, yet, mademoiselle, we do not wish you to lose that good heart. Do you not think that Mr. Greening has had his lesson?"
"Yes, I do."