Meantime I was alone with Father Dan in my room, and while I poured out
his tea and served him with bread and butter, he talked first about
Martin (as everybody seemed to do when speaking to me), saying:

"He was always my golden-headed boy, and it's a mighty proud man I am
entirely to hear the good news of him."

More of the same kind there was, all music to my ears, and then Father
Dan came to closer quarters, saying Doctor Conrad had dropped a hint
that I was not very happy.

"Tell your old priest everything, my child, and if there is anything he
can do. . . ."

Without waiting for more words I sank to my knees at his feet, and
poured out all my troubles--telling him my marriage had been a failure;
that the sanctifying grace which he had foretold as the result of the
sacrament of holy wedlock had not come to pass; that not only did I not
love my husband, but my husband loved another woman, who was living here
with us in this very house.

Father Dan was dreadfully distressed. More than once while I was
speaking he crossed himself and said, "Lord and His Holy Mother love
us;" and when I came to an end he began to reproach himself for
everything, saying that he ought to have known that our lad (meaning
Martin) did not write those terrible letters without being certain they
were true, and that from the first day my husband came to our parish the
sun had been darkened by his shadow.

"But take care," he said. "I've told nobody about the compact we made
with your husband--nobody but our Blessed Lady herself--and you mustn't
think of that as a way out of your marriage. No, nor of any other way,
no matter what, which the world, and the children of the world, may talk
about."

"But I can't bear it, I can't bear it," I cried.

"Hush! Hush! Don't say that, my daughter. Think of it as one of the
misfortunes of life which we all have to suffer. How many poor women
have to bear the sickness and poverty, not to speak of the drunkenness
and death, of their husbands! Do they think they have a right to run
away from all that--to break the sacred vows of their marriage on
account of it? No, my child, no, and neither must you. Some day it will
all come right. You'll see it will. And meantime by the memory of your
mother--that blessed saint whom the Lord has made one of his own. . . ."

"Then what can I do?"

"Pray, my child, pray for strength to bear your trials and to resist all
temptation. Say a rosary for the Blessed V