. His face looked stern for the first time.

Sophy rose. Her spirit was stilled, but her body felt as though it had
been beaten with staves. Every bone and nerve ached dully. The priest
rose too. She looked at him timidly:

"Can you give me your blessing, Father?"

His lovely smile melted the stern look. Instinctively she knelt, and he
stretched out his hands, making the sign of the cross in the air above
her bent head.

"_Benedicat te omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius et Spiritus Sanctus._
Amen."

The grave Latin words of benediction rolled solemnly over her. Her
spirit felt folded in a soothing peace. She rose, trembling a little.

"I wish I could thank you ... as I want to, Father," she whispered.

"Thank God, my child. He sent you to me."

"Yes. I believe that."

"Would it help you to come here sometimes, to this simple house
dedicated to the Mother of Compassion?"

"Yes, Father; but...."

"Would your husband be displeased if he knew that you came?"

"Yes, Father. He hates the Catholic religion."

"Then do not come, my child. But remember that I am here if you need me.
My prayers will follow you. I will have a _Novena_ for you. Be of good
courage."

Sophy gazed at him. The tears gathered again. She could not speak. Going
out silently, she got into the musty cab.

She remembered nothing of the drive home. Her eyes were turned inward.

XV

Dr. Carfew came at one o'clock. He was a tall, sinewy man, with light
blue, prominent eyes very piercing, and thick yellow-grey curls that
stuck out below the brim of his hat as though supporting it. He put a
few brief yet searching questions to Sophy, then asked to see the
patient. He did not wish Sophy to be present at the examination. Gaynor
remained with him at his request. After half an hour he came downstairs.
Sophy sat waiting for him, her hands wrung together again. She had put
back her rings.

She paled when she saw him enter, and her eyes darkened. He drew up a
chair without ceremony, and sat down facing her.

"This is a grave case, Mrs. Chesney," he said, in his abrupt
"no-nonsense-now" voice. "I gathered from your husband's valet that you
have not a clear idea of how matters stand."

"No. I have not," she said.

"There is no doubt about it. Your husband is the victim of a most fatal
habit."

She continued looking at him in silence.

"Have you never even suspected the cause of his ailment?" he asked
brusquely.

"Yes--but I did not k