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. 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
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