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Don't suppose I ever doubted that it is my duty to extend, to the best of my ability, the civilizing influences of Art. My only hesitation in the matter arose from a dread of some accident happening, or some injury being done, to the pictures. Even now, I can only persuade myself to try the experiment under certain restrictions." "A wise decision, undoubtedly," said Father Benwell.
"I should have done that already, Father Benwell, but for the very kind allusion in your note to your friend in the country. Even if the book is in the Museum Library, I shall be obliged to go to the Reading Room to get my information. It would be far more convenient to me to have the volume at home to consult, if you think your friend will trust me with it."
The smile left his lips, the gayety died out of his eyes. Traveler, entreating for more notice with impatient forepaws applied to his master's knees, saw the alteration, and dropped into a respectfully recumbent position. Father Benwell glanced sidelong off the columns of the newspaper, and waited for events with all the discretion, and none of the good faith, of the dog.
In low broken tones he said to the priest, "You have innocently brought me most distressing news. I entreat your pardon if I ask to be left alone." Father Benwell said a few well-chosen words of sympathy, and immediately withdrew. The dog licked his master's hand, hanging listlessly over the arm of the chair.
Under the influence of strong emotion her thoughts lost their customary discipline. In attempting to fathom Father Benwell, she was conscious of having undertaken a task which required more pliable moral qualities than she possessed. To her own unutterable annoyance, she was at a loss what to say next. At that critical moment her mother appeared eager for news of the conquest of Romayne.
She wouldn't hear of it. "Oh, Bernard, have I not learned to trust you yet? Put away those papers. There is only one thing I want to know. Who gave them to you? The Rector?" "No." "How did they reach you, then?" "Through Father Benwell." She started at that name like a woman electrified. "I knew it!" she cried.
She felt a vague forewarning of what had happened. Mrs. Eyrecourt proceeded to enlighten her, as an appropriate expression of gratitude. "We are indeed indebted to Father Benwell, my dear. He has been most considerate and kind " Romayne interrupted her without ceremony. "Favor me," he said, addressing his wife, "by inducing Mrs. Eyrecourt to continue her narrative in some other room."
Father Benwell made a last desperate effort to pave the way for one more question before he submitted to defeat. "That must be your fault, my dear lady!" he interposed, with his persuasive smile. Miss Notman simpered. "You confuse me, Father!" she said softly. "I speak from inward conviction, Miss Notman.
Thousands of people go to Clovelly, and Beaupark House is one of the show-places in the neighborhood. Is there a little Protestant prejudice in this new idea of yours?" Stella made no reply; she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts. Lady Loring went on. "I am open to conviction, my dear. If you will only tell me what interest Father Benwell can have in knowing about you and Winterfield "
I couldn't live in a house without pictures." Father Benwell looked at Winterfield. "Another taste in common between you and Mr. Romayne," he said, "besides your liking for dogs." This at once produced the desired result. Romayne eagerly invited Winterfield to see his pictures. "There are not many of them," he said. "But they are really worth looking at. When will you come?"
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