the mind of Maurice was that in this fortune fate had raised another
wall between himself and Berenice. He spoke to escape the reflection.

"But all this is surely not my concern."

"It is your concern if it shows you a way in which the votes of those
clergymen may be assured, although Mrs. Frostwinch should not recover."

"It shows me no way."

Maurice tried to speak naturally and without evidence of feeling, but
his throat was parched and his heart hot. He hated this inquisition.
The long reverence and admiration which had bound him to the Father
melted to nothing in the twinkling of an eye. Who was this Jesuit that
sat here making of Berenice and her fortune pawns in his game;
involving her in a web of intrigue unworthy of his sacred office; and
forcing his disciple to listen through a knowledge of facts
stammeringly poured out in the confessional? Absence from the Clergy
House and from town, and after that a growing reluctance, had prevented
Maurice from confessing anything beyond his first attraction to Miss
Morison, but he had written to the Father Superior of the accident, and
had mentioned that he was thought to have been of assistance in saving
her. It came to him now that he was being repaid for the accursed
vanity which had led him to make this boast; and he became the more
animated against his director from his anger against himself.

"Whatever Mrs. Frostwinch has done with the property," Father Frontford
said, "of course Miss Morison may do if she pleases."

"I should suppose so; but I know nothing about it."