lessed by
the hands of the assembled priests: this child God had given him to
replace the innocent so cruelly destroyed long ago!

Honora's eyes hardly left Arthur's transfigured face, which held her,
charmed her, frightened her by its ever-changing expression. Light and
shadow flew across it as over the depths of the sea. The mask off, the
habit of repression laid aside, his severe features responded to the
inner emotions. She saw his great eyes fill with tears, his breast heave
at times. As yet she had not heard his story. The power of that story
came less from the tale than the recollection of scenes like this, which
she unthinking had witnessed in the years of their companionship. What
made this strange man so unlike all other men?

At the close of the ordination the blessing from the new priest began.
Flushed, dewy-eyed, calm, and white, Louis stood at the railing to lay
his anointed hands on each in turn; first the mother, and the father.
Then came a little pause, while Mona made way for him dearest to all
hearts that day, Arthur. He held back until he saw that his delay
retarded the ceremony, when he accepted the honor. He felt the blessed
hands on his head, and a thrill leaped through him as the palms, odorous
of the balmy chrism, touched his lips.

Mona held up her baby with the secret prayer that he too would be found
worthy of the sanctuary; then followed her husband and her sisters.
Honora did not see as she knelt how Arthur's heart leaped into his eyes,
and shot a burning glance at Louis to remind him of a request uttered
long ago: when you bless Honora, bless her for me! Thus all conspired
against her. Was it wonderful that she left the cathedral drawn to her
hero as never before?

The next day Arthur told her with pride and tenderness, as they drove to
the church where Father Louis was to sing his first Mass, that every
vestment of the young priest came from him. Sister Magdalen had made the
entire set, with her own hands embroidered them, and he had borne the
expense. Honora found her heart melting under these beautiful details of
an affection, without limit. The depth of this man's heart seemed
incredible, deeper than her father's, as if more savage sorrow had dug
depths in what was deep enough by nature. Long afterward she recognized
how deeply the ordination had affected her. It roused the feeling that
such a heart should not be lightly rejected.

* * * * *

Desol