Now, while the wind strengthened and the softly booming summer
shower came on apace, the heavy cloud lifting as it advanced and
showing under it the dark gray sheet of the rain, Pere Beret and
Alice sat under the clapboard roof behind the vines of the veranda
and discussed, what was generally uppermost in the priest's mind
upon such occasions, the good of Alice's immortal soul,--a subject
not absorbingly interesting to her at any time.
It was a standing grief to the good old priest, this strange
perversity of the girl in the matter of religious duty, as he saw
it. True she had a faithful guardian in Gaspard Roussillon; but,
much as he had done to aid the church's work in general, for he
was always vigorous and liberal, he could not be looked upon as a
very good Catholic; and of course his influence was not effective
in the right direction. But then Pere Beret saw no reason why, in
due time and with patient work, aided by Madame Roussillon and
notwithstanding Gaspard's treachery, he might not safely lead
Alice, whom he loved as a dear child, into the arms of the Holy
Church, to serve which faithfully, at all hazards and in all
places, was his highest aim.
"Ah, my child," he was saying, "you are a sweet, good girl, after
all, much better than you make yourself out to be. Your duty will
control you; you do it nobly at last, my child.
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