CHAPTER XL.
When the morning lessons were over, Carmina showed the priest’s letter to Miss Minerva. The governess read it, and handed it back in silence.
“Have you nothing to say?” Carmina asked.
“Nothing. You know my opinion already. That letter says what I have said—with greater authority.”
“It has determined me to follow your advice, Frances.”
“Then it has done well.”
“And you see,” Carmina continued, “that Father Patrizio speaks of obstacles in the way of my marriage. Teresa has evidently shown him my letters. Do you think he fears, as I do, that my aunt may find some means of separating us, even when Ovid comes back?”
“Very likely.”
She spoke in faint weary tones—listlessly leaning back in her chair. Carmina asked if she had passed another sleepless night.
“Yes,” she said, “another bad night, and the usual martyrdom in teaching the children. I don’t know which disgusts me most—Zoe’s impudent stupidity, or Maria’s unendurable humbug.”