ed of the sacrament. At that moment the young girl came out.
She hurried away, and Ellen went into the confessional to betray her
husband.

She was going to betray Ned, but she was going to betray him under the
seal of confession, and entertained no thought that the priest would
avail himself of any technicality in her confession to betray her. She
was, nevertheless, determined that her confession should be technically
perfect. She went into the confessional to confess her sins, and one of
the sins she was going to confess was her culpable negligence regarding
the application of her money. There were other sins. She had examined
her conscience, and had discovered many small ones. She had lost her
temper last night, and her temper had prevented her from saying her
prayers, her temper and her love of Ned; for it were certainly a sin to
desire anything so fervidly that one cannot give to God the love, the
prayers, that belong to Him.

During Mass the life of her soul had seemed to her strange and complex,
and she thought that her confession would be a long one; but on her
knees before the priest her soul seemed to vanish, and all her
interesting scruples and phases of thought dwindled to almost
nothing--she could not put her soul into words. The priest waited, but
the matter on which she had come to consult him had put everything else
out of her head.

"I am not certain that what I am going to tell you is a sin, but I
consider it as part of my confession," and she told him how she had
given Ned her money and allowed him to apply it without inquiring into
the application. "Since my child was born I have not taken the interest
I used to take in politics. I don't think my husband is any longer
interested in my ideas, and now he has told me that some kind of
religious reformation is necessary in Ireland."

"When did he tell you that?"

"Yesterday--the day before. I went to the station to meet him and he
told me as we walked home. For a long time I believed him: I don't mean
that he told me falsehoods; he may have deceived himself. Anyhow he
used to tell me that though his agitation might be described as
anti-clerical no one could call it anti-religious. But this morning
something led me into his room and I looked through his papers. I
daresay I had no right to do so, but I did."

"And you discovered from his papers that his agitation was directed
against religion?"

Ellen nodded.

"I cannot think of anything more un