He looked, indeed, a bewildered boy, borne down by a weight that was too heavy for his years. He walked with his hands behind his back, his hatless head bowed, regarding his feet and the last year's leaves on which he walked. A cuckoo across the valley called with the insistence of one who will be answered.
"My Robin," said the girl, "the last thing I would have you do is to tell me what you would not…. Will you not speak to the priest about it?"
"I have spoken to the priest."
"Yes?"
"He tells me he does not know what to think."
"Would you do this thing—whatever it may be—if the priest told you it was God's will?"
There was a pause; and then:
"I do not know," said Robin, so low she could scarcely hear him.
She drew a deep breath to reassure herself.
"Listen!" she said. "I must say a little of what I think; but not all.
Our Lord must finish it to you, if it is according to His will."