“There is nothing to beg my pardon for.  I am your confessor, your spiritual adviser, and you must tell everything to me; and it is my duty to tell you that you place too much reliance upon miracles.  This is not the first time you have spoken to me about miraculous interposition.”

“But if God is in heaven and His Church upon earth, why shouldn’t there be miracles?  Moreover, nearly all the saints are credited with having performed miracles.  Their lives are little more than records of miracles they have performed.”

“I cannot agree with you in that.  Their lives are records of their love of God, and the prayers they have offered up that God’s wrath may be averted from a sinful world, and the prayers they have offered up for their souls.”

“What would the Bible be without its miracles?  Miracles are recorded in the Old and in the New Testaments.  Surely miracles cannot have ceased with the nineteenth century?  Miracles must be inherent in religion.  To talk of miracles going out of fashion—­”

“But, Miss Innes, I never spoke of miracles going out of fashion.  You misunderstand me entirely.  If God wills it, a miracle may happen to-morrow, in this garden, at any moment.  Nobody questions the power of God to perform a miracle, only we mustn’t be too credulous, accepting every strange event as a miracle; and you, who seemed so difficult to convince on some points, are ready enough to believe—­”

“You mean, Monsignor, because I experienced much difficulty in believing that the sins I committed with Owen Asher were equal to those I committed with Ulick Dean.”

“Yes, that was in my mind; and I doubt very much that you are not of the same opinion still.”

“Monsignor, I have accepted your opinion that the sin was the same in either case, and you have told me yourself that to acquiesce is sufficient.  You don’t mind my arguing with you a little, because in doing so I become clear to myself?”

“On the contrary, I like you to argue with me; only in that way can you confide all your difficulties to me.  I regret that, notwithstanding my opinion, you still believe you are not putting yourself in the way of temptation by returning to the stage.”

“I know myself.  If I didn’t feel sure of myself, Monsignor, I wouldn’t go to America.  Obedience is so pleasant, and your ruling is so sweet—­”

“Nevertheless, you must go your own way; you must relieve this convent from debt.  That is what is in your mind.”

“I am sorry, Monsignor, for I should have liked to have had your approval.”

“It was not, then, to profit by my advice that you consulted me?”

Evelyn did not answer, and the singer and the prelate walked on in silence, seeing Sister Mary John among her blackbirds and thrushes, sparrows and starlings, accepting her crumbs without fear, no stranger being by.  The starlings, however, again flew into a tree when they saw Evelyn and Monsignor, and some of the other birds followed them.