h to us--a-a sort of--lecture."

"What did he lecture about?"

Arthur hesitated. "You won't ask me his name, Padre, will you? Because I
promised----"

"I will ask you no questions at all, and if you have promised secrecy of
course you must not tell me; but I think you can almost trust me by this
time."

"Padre, of course I can. He spoke about--us and our duty to the
people--and to--our own selves; and about--what we might do to help----"

"To help whom?"

"The contadini--and----"

"And?"

"Italy."

There was a long silence.

"Tell me, Arthur," said Montanelli, turning to him and speaking very
gravely, "how long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since--last winter."

"Before your mother's death? And did she know of it?"

"N-no. I--I didn't care about it then."

"And now you--care about it?"

Arthur pulled another handful of bells off the foxglove.

"It was this way, Padre," he began, with his eyes on the ground. "When I
was preparing for the entrance examination last autumn, I got to know
a good many of the students; you remember? Well, some of them began to
talk to me about--all these things, and lent me books. But I didn't care
much about it; I always wanted to get home quick to mother. You see, she
was quite alone among them all in that dungeon of a house; and Julia's
tongue was enough to kill her. Then, in the winter, when she got so ill,
I forgot all about the students and their books; and then, you know, I
left off coming to Pisa altogether. I should have talked to mother if
I had thought of it; but it went right out of my head. Then I found out
that she was going to die----You know, I was almost constantly with her
towards the end; often I would sit up the night, and Gemma Warren would
come in the day to let me get to sleep. Well, it was in those long
nights; I got thinking about the books and about what the students had
said--and wondering--whether they were right and--what--Our Lord would
have said about it all."

"Did you ask Him?" Montanelli's voice was not quite steady.

"Often, Padre. Sometimes I have prayed to Him to tell me what I must do,
or to let me die with mother. But I couldn't find any answer."

"And you never said a word to me. Arthur, I hoped you could have trusted
me."

"Padre, you know I trust you! But there are some things you can't talk
about to anyone. I--it seemed to me that no one could help me--not even
you or mother; I must have my own answer straight from G