"Nay, Father, not so bad as that."
"Are you quite sure you did not slap her?" asked Francis, quietly.
"Nay. But I had a mind to. My heart slapped her, if my hand forbore. Alas!"
"Had she hurt you?"
"That she did,—but only my head. I hurt her heart: for the poor wench loves me dear,—the Lord knows for what."
"Humph!—proceed to Pride."
"Yes, Father. I do confess that I was greatly puffed up with the praises of men. I was proud of the sorriest things: of jumping a brook, when't was my horse jumped it, and had jumped it better with a fly on his back than the poor worm Me; of my good looks, forgetting that God gave them me; and besides, I am no beauty, when all is done; it is all their flattery. And at my Lady Munster's dinner I pridefully walked out before Mistress Davies, the rich cheesemonger's wife, that is as proud of her money as I of my old blood, (God forgive two fools!) which I had no right to do,—a maid to walk before a wife; and oh, Father, I whispered the gentleman who led me out,—it was Mr. Neville"——
Here the penitent put one hand before her face, and hesitated.
"Well, daughter, half-confession is no confession. You said to Mr. Neville?"——
"I said, 'Nothing comes after cheese.'"