I became curious to see Father Angelo.
“When will he come here again?” I inquired.
“To-morrow at furthest,” said Claire.
“Then I hope I shall see him.”
“Assuredly, if madam desires it,” said Claire, with a pleased look. “But apparently, madam is a Protestant?”
“Oh, I do not want to confess to him,” said I, laughing.
“Pardon me, madam. But have you never felt that it would be a great pleasure and privilege to confess?”
“Assuredly not, Claire,” said I, more seriously.
“Madam has had dear friends then, to whom she could express every thought—confess every fault—and to whom she could apply in every difficulty?” inquired she.
“No—not always,” answered I, hesitatingly; “but, Claire, we believe that to God alone we should confess.”