of the Jesuits to step into her room one morning as he was about to leave the convent, after having made his daily visit to his young charge.
“Julius,” she said, “you must go more slowly or you will spoil everything by haste. The girl was frightened the other day by your looks and your familiar mode of address. Positively, you wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“How long is it, fair cousin, since you were appointed my confessor?” returned the Superior angrily. “I know what I am about. And Agnes, if for a moment you think I am smitten by la grande passion, you are mistaken. The difference in our ages ought to teach you that I regard Katharine La Tour as a father might regard his young daughter.”
“Excuse me,” said the Abbess, laughing. “I perceive that I have made a mistake! A fatherly interest! That is very good, Julius. However, it is no business of mine. Only heed my warning if you wish the girl to take the veil willingly.”
After the Superior reached the privacy of his own room, he sat down and faced the problem which his cousin had propounded. Was he, Monseigneur Ryder, the cold, unimpressionable Superior of the House of the Jesuits, the cynic, in love? He scoffed at the idea. But his reason told him plainly that the pleasure he took in the society of Katharine La Tour was not because of the
