were placed, _now_, in a situation which would leave me
without responsibility."

"You are a paradox. You ought to be ten feet high, May, with such a
will as yours. You won't live with us, because we are so wicked that
you'd have to preach to us about our sins; and you won't live here,
because you're afraid you'll get as bad as we are. Well, well! be
happy your own way, and come and see Helen when you can," said Mr.
Jerrold, laughing, as he got up to leave.

"I feel your kindness deeply, Mr. Jerrold. I hope you are not hurt or
offended?"

"Not in the least. I think you are bearing your wrongs like a saint;
and I wish I was only half as good," replied Mr. Jerrold, shaking hands
with her.

"Tell Helen that I am thankful for the flowers, and will offer them
this evening, with a prayer for her conversion, to OUR MOTHER," said
May.

"I thought her mother was dead and buried!" thought Mr. Jerrold, as he
walked down the street. "What a curious little soul she is!"

After dinner, May went to inform Father Fabian that she had declined
Mr. Fielding's offer, and would remove to Mrs. Tabb's in the course of
a day or two. But she saw him in the garden walk in the rear of the
house, walking to and fro, reading his office, and went into the
church, where she offered the rich bouquet Helen had sent her, on the
shrine of _Our Lady, the refuge_; after which, she said, with great
devotion, a decade of the rosary, for her conversion. Father Fabian
was standing in the door when she returned, and watched her, as she
approached, with a grave, but quizzical, expression of countenance.

"I am glad to see you, my child, in your long dresses yet," he said,
holding out his hand, kindly.

"Sir," said May, looking perplexed.

"I did not feel sure but that you had adopted the new school so much in
favor with your sex, judging from all that I have heard," he replied,
laughing.

"What new school? What have you heard, Father?" she asked, anxiously.

"The strong-minded women's-school!"

"I see that you have some jest at my expense, and I must be patient
until it is explained," said May, sitting down.

"Yes, yes; be patient."

"Will you not tell me, Father, what I have done?"

"May, do you believe that you burned the will the night your uncle lay
dying?" asked Father Fabian, abruptly.

"I do not think I did. I may, however, have done so."

"Mr. Fielding intends to endeavor to set aside the will which was
found. He had go