d most was that her composure should return.

"Do not be angry with me," he said; "I ask because it is right that I
should know. Can you not get rid of this bond of marriage?"

"Do you think," she asked, "that the good God and the Holy Virgin would
desire me to put myself--my life--all that is sacred--into courts and
newspapers? Do you think the holy Mother of God--looking down upon me,
her child--wants me to get out of trouble in _that_ way?" Josephine had
asked the question first in distress; then, with a face of peerless
scorn, she seemed to put some horrid scene from before her with her
hand. "The dear God would rather I would drown myself," she said; "it
would at least be"--she hesitated for a word, as if at a loss in her
English--"at least be cleaner."

She had no sooner finished that speech than the scorn died out of her
face:

"Ah, no," she cried repentant; "the men and women who are driven to seek
such redress--I--I truly pity them--but for me--it would not be any use
even if it were right. O'Shea says it would be no use, and he knows. I
don't think I would do it if I could; but I could not if I would."

"Surely he is dead," pleaded Caius. "How can you live if you do not
believe that?"

She came a little nearer to him, making the explanation with child-like
earnestness:

"You see, I have talked to God and to the holy Mother about this. I know
they have heard my prayers and seen my tears, and will do what is good
for me. I ask God always that Le Maitre may not come back to me, so now
I know that if" (a gasping sigh retarded for a moment the breath that
came and went in her gentle bosom) "if he does come back it will be
God's will. Who am I that I should know best? Shall I choose to be what
you call a 'missionary' to the poor and sick--and refuse God's will? God
can put an end to my marriage if He will; until He does, I will do my
duty to my husband: I will till the land that he left idle; I will
honour the name he gave me. I dare not do anything except what is very,
very right, because I have appealed to the Court of Heaven. You asked
me just now if I did not want and need friendship; it does not matter
at all what I want, and whatever God does not give me you may be sure I
do not need."

He knew that the peace he dreaded had come back to her. She had gone
back to the memory of her strength. Now he obeyed the command she had
given before, and went out.

CHAPTER VI.

"THE NIGHT IS DARK."

C