"Is it wrong to keep a secret?" she asked, her face turned away from the
man at the window.

"If it is the secret of a sin, and the sin is your own--yes, Margot."

"And if the sin is not your own?"

"If you share the sin, and if the secret means injury to others, and a
wrong is being done, and the law can right that wrong, then you must go
to the law, not to your priest."

The Cure's look was grave, even anxious, for he saw that the old woman's
mind was greatly disturbed. But her face cleared now, and stayed so.
"It has all been a mix and a muddle," she answered; "and it hurt my poor
head, M'sieu' le Cure, but now I think I under stand. I am not afraid;
I will confess."

The Cure had made it clear to her that she could carry to her grave the
secret of the little cross and the work it had done, and so keep her word
and still not injure her chances of salvation. She was content. She no
longer needed the helpful presence of M'sieu' or Rosalie. Charley
instinctively felt what was in her mind, and came towards the bed.

"I will tell Mademoiselle Rosalie about the tea," he said to her.

She looked up at him, almost smiling. "Thank you, good M'sieu'," she
said.

"I will confess now, M'sieu' le Cure" she continued. Charley left the
room.