“Who told you so, my child?” asked Mr. Smithson.
“The newspapers from town allude to it. M. Barnier is a well-known man, and esteemed by his very enemies themselves. It is to be with him M. Louis is gone. Does not such a motive justify his absence?”
Mr. Smithson had attentively listened to what his daughter said. If we except what related to religious subjects, he was an impartial and even kindly disposed man. “With such a reason for his absence,” he replied, “I shall cease to regard it as inexcusable. Nevertheless, he ought to have made me aware of what had taken place. He simply said he was going to stay with a sick friend: that was not a sufficient explanation. What I dislike in the man is his dissimulation.”
“I acknowledge there may be some reason for distrust,” resumed Eugénie, “but he has given no proofs of duplicity since he came here that I am aware of. He certainly has done nothing without consulting you, father.”
“He did, to be sure, propose several things he wished to do; but did he reveal his real aim, his ultimate object?”
“Had he any?”
“Had he any?... The Adams affair proves it. The evening-school and the library were only founded to propagate Catholicism.”
“With what object?”
“The aim of these enthusiasts is always the same. They wish to impart their belief to others, that they may afterwards exercise authority over their disciples. Louis and the curé are linked together. Their project is to make my manufactory like a convent, where they can reign in spite of me. But I will settle that matter.”
“And you will do right, uncle,” said Albert. “There is no tyranny more artful and more encroaching than that of the priesthood.”