"
NINETEENTH CHAPTER
I saw, as by a flash of light, what was before me, and my whole soul
rose in rebellion against it. That my father after all the years during
which he had neglected me, should come to me now, when my plans were
formed, and change the whole current of my life, was an outrage--an
iniquity. It might be his right--his natural right--but if so his
natural right was a spiritual wrong--and I would resist it--to my last
breath and my last hour I would resist it.
Such were the brave thoughts with which I passed that night, but at ten
o'clock next morning, when I was summoned to meet my father himself, it
was on trembling limbs and with a quivering heart that I went down to
the Reverend Mother's room.
Except that his hair was whiter than before my father was not much
changed. He rose as I entered, saying, "Here she is herself," and when I
went up to him he put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my face.
"Quite a little Italian woman grown! Like your mother though," he said,
and then speaking over my head to the Bishop, who sat on the other side
of the room, he added:
"Guess this will do, Bishop, eh?"
"Perfectly," said the Bishop.
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