"
"Priest-ridden?"
"Precisely," and then followed an explanation of what had happened, with
astonishing embellishments which made my husband pale with fury.
Meantime I was alone with Father Dan in my room, and while I poured out
his tea and served him with bread and butter, he talked first about
Martin (as everybody seemed to do when speaking to me), saying:
"He was always my golden-headed boy, and it's a mighty proud man I am
entirely to hear the good news of him."
More of the same kind there was, all music to my ears, and then Father
Dan came to closer quarters, saying Doctor Conrad had dropped a hint
that I was not very happy.
"Tell your old priest everything, my child, and if there is anything he
can do. . . ."
Without waiting for more words I sank to my knees at his feet, and
poured out all my troubles--telling him my marriage had been a failure;
that the sanctifying grace which he had foretold as the result of the
sacrament of holy wedlock had not come to pass; that not only did I not
love my husband, but my husband loved another woman, who was living here
with us in this very house.
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