he went on, in a subdued and gently modulated
voice:

"At this time more than ever before, you must need the consolation of
Religion. Am I not right in believing that you feel a deeper yearning
for the closer love and protection of our Heavenly Father, for that
security and peace which the outer world can never offer? And too well
we know that the outer world is uncharitable and cruel. It might look
askance upon this strange adventure. But the arms of Our Mother are ever
open. You are always her daughter, and with _her_ there is nothing
to forgive. All is love, and faith, and peace."

To this deeply religious girl, now stricken and weary, whose heart was
numbed with grief, whose hope was crushed, these words came as a voice
from Heaven. She held forth a hand which the prelate held in both his
own.

"God bless you, my child."

[Illustration]

XVII

VOICES OF THE WOOD

When the Princess realized the somewhat famished condition of her new
acquaintance she ordered a tempting lunch from the yacht, and had it
served in the cottage: fresh meat, with fruit, vegetables, and cream and
butter--new dishes among the Pines of Lory! Of this repast the
Archbishop partook with spirit.

"Truly an invigorating air. What an appetite it gives!" And he devoured
the viands with a priestly relish, but always with arch-episcopal
dignity. The person, however, for whom the meal was served leaned back
wearily in her chair, barely tasting the different dishes.

"You will starve, my child," said the Princess, gently. "Really, you
must eat something to keep alive."

The effort was made, but with little success. And in Elinor's face her
friend divined an over-mastering grief.

The two women, after lunch, strolled out among the pines, toward the
bench by the river. It became evident to the Princess, from the manner
in which her companion leaned upon her arm, that days of fasting--and of
sorrow--had diminished her strength. Upon the rustic bench Elinor sank
with a sigh of relief. But into her face came a smile of gratitude as
her eyes met those of the little lady who stood before her, and who was
looking down with tender sympathy.

To Elinor's description of how she and Pats found the old gentleman
reclining upon this same bench, the Princess gave the closest attention.
Every detail was made clear by the narrator, who took the same position
at the end of the seat, crossing her knees and leaning a cheek upon one
hand, as if asle