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frockcoat。 His own future proceedings depended； in some degree；
on the course which Winterfield might take； when he had read the
confession of the unhappy woman who had once been his wife。
Would he show the letter to Stella； at a private interview； as an
unanswerable proof that she had cruelly wronged him？ And would it
in this case be desirableif the thing could be doneso to
handle circumstances as that Romayne might be present； unseen；
and might discover the truth for himself？ In the other
eventthat is to say； if Winterfield abstained from
communicating the confession to Stellathe responsibility of
making the necessary disclosure must remain with the priest。
Father Benwell walked softly up and down the room； looking about
him with quietly…observant eye。 A side table in a corner was
covered with letters； waiting Winterfield's return。 Always ready
for information of any sort； he even looked at the addresses on
the letters。
The handwritings presented the customary variety of character。
All but three of the envelopes showed the London district
postmarks。 Two of the other letters （addressed to Winterfield at
his club） bore foreign postmarks； and one； as the altered
direction showed； had been forward from Beaupark House to the
hotel。
This last letter especially attracted the priest's attention。
The address was apparently in a woman's handwriting。 And it was
worthy of remark that she appeared to be the only person among
Winterfield's correspondents who was not acquainted with the
address of his hotel or of his club。 Who could the person be？ The
subtly inquiring intellect of Father Benwell amused itself by
speculating even on such a trifling problem as this。 He little
thought that he had a personal interest in the letter。 The
envelope contained Stella's warning to Winterfield to distrust no
less a person than Father Benwell himself！
It was nearly half…past five before quick footsteps were audible
outside。 Winterfield entered the room。
〃This is friendly indeed！〃 he said。 〃I expected to return to the
worst of all solitudessolitude in a hotel。 You will stay and
dine with me？ That's right。 You must have thought I was going to
settle in Paris。 Do you know what has kept me so long？ The most
delightful theater in the worldthe Opera Comique。 I am so fond
of the bygone school of music； Father Benwellthe flowing
graceful delicious melodies of the composers who followed Mozart。
One can only enjoy that music in Paris。 Would you believe that I
waited a week to hear Nicolo's delightful Joconde for the second
time。 I was almost the only young man in the stalls。 All round me
were the old men who remembered the first performances of the
opera； beating time with their wrinkled hands to the tunes which
were associated with the happiest days of their lives。 What's
that I hear？ My dog！ I was obliged to leave him here； and he
knows I have come back！〃
He flew to the door and called down the stairs to have the dog
set free。 The spaniel rushed into the room and leaped into his
master's outstretched arms。 Winterfield returned his caresses；
and kisses him as tenderly as a woman might have kissed her pet。
〃Dear old fellow！ it's a shame to have left youI won't do it
again。 Father Benwell； have you many friends who would be as glad
to see you as _this_ friend？ I haven't one。 And there are fools
who talk of a dog as an inferior being to ourselves！ _This_
creature's faithful love is mine； do what I may。 I might be
disgraced in the estimation of every human creature I know； and
he would be as true to me as ever。 And look at his physical
qualities。 What an ugly thing； for instanceI won't say your
earI will say； my ear is； crumpled and wrinkled and naked。 Look
at the beautiful silky covering of _his_ ear！ What are our senses
of smelling and hearing compared to his？ We are proud of our
reason。 Could we find our way back； if they shut us up in a
basket； and took us to a strange place away from home？ If we both
want to run downstairs in a hurry； which of us is securest
against breaking his neckI on my poor two legs； or he on his
four？ Who is the happy mortal who goes to bed without
unbuttoning； and gets up again without buttoning？ Here he is； on
my lap； knowing I am talking about him； and too fond of me to say
to himself； 'What a fool my master is！' 〃
Father Benwell listened to this rhapsodyso characteristic of
the childish simplicity of the manwith an inward sense of
impatience； which never once showed itself on the smiling surface
of his face。
He had decided not to mention the papers in his pocket until some
circumstance occurred which might appear to remind him naturally
that he had such things about him。 If he showed any anxiety to
produce the envelope； he might expose himself to the suspicion of
having some knowledge of the contents。 When would Winterfield
notice the side table； and open his letters？
The tick…tick of the clock on the mantel…piece steadily
registered the progress of time； and Winterfield's fantastic
attentions were still lavished on his dog。
Even Father Benwell's patience was sorely tried when the good
country gentleman proceeded to mention not only the spaniel's
name； but the occasion which had suggested it。 〃We call him
Traveler； and I will tell you why。 When he was only a puppy he
strayed into the garden at Beaupark； so weary and footsore that
we concluded he had come to us from a great distance。 We
advertised him； but he was never claimedand here he is！ If you
don't object； we will give Traveler a treat to…day。 He shall have
dinner with us。〃
Perfectly understanding those last words； the dog jumped off his
master's lap； and actually forwarded the views of Father Benwell
in less than a minute more。 Scampering round and round the room；
as an appropriate expression of happiness； he came into collision
with the side table and directed Winterfield's attention to the
letters by scattering them on the floor。
Father Benwell rose politely； to assist in picking up the
prostrate correspondence。 But Traveler was beforehand with him。
Warning the priest； with a low growl； not to interfere with
another person's business； the dog picked up the letters in his
mouth； and carried them by installments to his master's feet。
Even then； the exasperating Winterfield went no further than
patting Traveler。 Father Benwell's endurance reached its limits。
〃Pray don't stand on ceremony with me；〃 he said。 〃I will look at
the newspaper while you read your letters。〃
Winterfield carelessly gathered the letters together； tossed them
on the dining table at his side； and took the uppermost one of
the little heap。
Fate was certainly against the priest on that evening。 The first
letter that Winterfield opened led him off to another subject of
conversation before he had read it to the end。 Father Benwell's
hand； already in his coat pocket； appeared againempty。
〃Here's a proposal to me to go into Parliament；〃 said the Squire。
〃What do you think of representative institutions； Father
Benwell？ To my mind； representative institutions are on their
last legs。 Honorable Members vote away more of our money every
year。 They have no alternative between suspending liberty of
speech； or sitting helpless while half a dozen impudent idiots
stop the progress of legislation from motives of the meanest
kind。 And they are not even sensitive enough to the national
honor to pass a social law among themselves which makes it as
disgraceful in a gentleman to buy a seat by bribery as to cheat
at cards。 I declare I think the card…sharper the least degraded
person of the two。 _He_ doesn't encourage his inferiors to be
false to a public trust。 In short； my dear sir； everything wears
out in this worldand why should the House of Commons be an
exception to the rule？〃
He picked up the next letter from the heap。 As he looked at the
address； his face changed。 The smile left his lips； the gayety
died out of his eyes。 Traveler； entreating for more notice with
impatient forepaws applied to his master's knees； saw the
alteration； and dropped into a respectfully recumbent position。
Father Benwell glanced sidelong off the columns of the newspaper；
and waited for events with all the discretion； and none of the
good faith； of the dog。