‘Oh, dearie me, I wish I’d never told you anything about it,’ lamented the nun, moving to the only chair the vestry possessed and sinking down into it. "It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. You have been burning paper, I see. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. "You know my motive well enough," answered Jonathan. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover.
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