at is the
change in life which Mr. O'Neill referred to in his letter?"

The smile which had been playing upon the Bishop's face was smitten away
from it by that question, and he looked anxiously across at my father.

"Tell her," said my father, and then, while my heart thumped in my bosom
and the Reverend Mother stroked my hand to compose me, the Bishop gave a
brief explanation.

The time had not come when it would be prudent to be more definite, but
he might say that Mr. O'Neill was trying to arrange a happy and enviable
future for his daughter, and therefore he wished her to return home to
prepare for it.

"Does that mean marriage?" said the Reverend Mother.

"It may be so. I am not quite prepared to . . ."

"And that a husband has already been found for her?"

"That too perhaps. I will not say . . ."

"Monsignor," said the Reverend Mother, sitting up with dignity "is that
fair?"

"Fair?"

"Is it fair that after ten years in which her father has done nothing
for her, he should determine what her life is to be, without regard to
her wish and will?"

I raised my eyes and saw that the Bishop looked aghast.

"Reverend Mother, you surprise me," he said. "Since when has a father
ceased to be the natural guardian of his child? Has he not been so since
the beginning of the world? Doesn't the Church itself build its laws on
that foundation?"

"Does it?" said the Reverend Mother shortly. And then (I could feel her
hand trembling as she spoke): "Some of its servants do, I know. But when
did the Church say that anybody--no matter who--a father or anybody
else--should take the soul of another, and control it and govern it, and
put it in prison? . . ."

"My good lady," said the Bishop, "would you call it putting the girl in
prison to marry her into an illustrious family, to give her an historic
name, to surround her with the dignity and distinction . . ."

"Bishop," said my father, raising his hand, "I guess it's my right to
butt in here, isn't it?"

I saw that my father's face had been darkening while the Reverend Mother
spoke, and now, rolling his heavy body in his chair so as to face her,
he said:

"Excuse me, ma'am, but when you say I've done nothing for my gel here I
suppose you'll allow I've kept her and educated her?"

"You've kept and educated your dogs and horses, also, I dare say, but do
you claim the same rights over a human being?"

"I do, ma'am--I think I do. And when the human being happens to