Eleanor sighed. 'I have not much right to say them, I know,' she said presently, in a low voice. 'I have poisoned the sound of them to your ears.'
Lucy was silent. She began to walk up and down the room, with her hands behind her.
'I will never, never forgive Father Benecke,' she said presently, in a low, determined voice.
'What do you think he had to do with it?'
'I know,' said Lucy. 'He brought Mr. Manisty here. He sent him up the hill this morning to see me. It was the most intolerable interference and presumption. Only a priest could have done it.'
'Oh! you bigot!—you Puritan! Come here, little wild-cat. Let me say something.'
Lucy came reluctantly, and Eleanor held her.
'Doesn't it enter into your philosophy—tell me—that one soul should be able to do anything for another?'
'I don't believe in the professional, anyway,' said Lucy stiffly—'nor in the professional claims.'
'My dear, it is a training like any other.'