“My wife, padre.” Jack smiled at the admiration in Cerini’s face as he took Helen’s hand and raised it to his lips. “She could not longer resist the magnet which draws us to you and to your treasures.”
“Your wife,” repeated the old man, looking from Helen to Armstrong. “I have looked forward to this day when I might meet her here. But where is your sister-worker? Surely she has not given up the splendid task which she has so well begun?”
Helen flushed consciously at Cerini’s praise of Inez. “No, father; Miss Thayer is already at her work, and Mr. Armstrong is equally eager to return to it. May I not stay a little while with you?”
“Have you time to show her some of the things here which we know and love so well?” asked Armstrong.
“Most certainly.”
He turned to Helen. “If you will accept my guidance we can let these humanists resume their labors while we enjoy the accomplishments of those who have gone before.”
Armstrong left them, and Cerini conducted Helen through the library, explaining to her the various objects of interest. It was quite apparent to Helen that the old man was studying her minutely, and she felt ill at ease in spite of his unfailing courtesy.
“You have known my husband for a long while, have you not?” Helen asked as they passed from one case to another.
“Yes, indeed—even before he came to know himself.”
“Then you must know him very well.”