"That's why they abuse her--woman was the original cause of sin, and
still is, nine cases out of ten."

"Shame on you! The world would have little virtue to be boasting of were
it not for us poor women."

"And less of sin," Desmond replied, cynically.

"Peace, children!" said Kathleen; "you spoil the scenery."

The Bishop was at home--a handsome man, tall and erect, with a stern
face, yet one that was singularly sweet.

"Well, my child," he asked Kathleen, "what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Quirk wished to know you, my Lord," Kathleen answered, with a
smile. "I brought him from Grey Town to introduce him to you."

"It is very kind of Mr. Quirk to come all this way to see me. Perhaps
you will lunch with me, now that you have come so far."

"Oh! no, my Lord----," cried Kathleen.

"Oh! yes, my child. You have something to say to me?" he asked Desmond.

"It is private, my Lord--but it can wait," Desmond answered.

"No; it must not wait. Come with me, and talk until luncheon is
prepared. I will send Father Geary to entertain your friends."

In his study, a small room, where large books on Theology were ranged on
shelves round the walls, where a large silver crucifix stood on the
table, with the Bishop's breviary and writing materials beside it, he
bade Desmond sit down. Then he began to interrogate him shrewdly, but
kindly.

"You wish to be a priest?" he asked.

Desmond eyed the Bishop in profound surprise, and his Lordship
continued:

"How do I guess? Eh? It is not great wisdom nor the black art that has
told me your secret. A friend wrote to me----."

"Mrs. Quirk!" cried Desmond.

The Bishop smiled, and his usually stern face relaxed, so that the lines
and wrinkles of care smoothed themselves out.

"A friend," he answered, "who was interested in you, and anxious for
advice."

"My Lord, I am quite uncertain. I can see which is the better, and which
the more difficult."

"Make a retreat, my child; then come to me again."

"Tell me it is impossible, my Lord!" cried Desmond.

"Nothing is impossible. I was myself a man of the world like you, and,
when I found myself confronted with a vocation, I was for running away,
like you. But the grace of God constrained me by force."

"I can save my soul in the world," said Desmond.

"You may; probably you will. But there are other souls to save besides
your own. Make a retreat, my child----."

"But I know what the result will be. There can be only the one a