"Have I leave to depart?"
"Go—and pax tibi!"
The company rose.
"Father, must thou be gone so soon?" Mary Brent asked, with hospitable entreaty in her tones.
"I must, my daughter."
"This very night?"
"This very night."
"But the road to St. Mary's is dark and rough."
"Ay, but our feet are used to treading rough roads, and the moon will show the blazed path as clearly as the sun itself."
"Farewell," said Father White. "Bear my greetings to my brothers at St. Inigo's, and charge them that they cease not from their labors till I come."