Mr. Mortleman made his appearance--a young man and a promising convert.
The wild brightness of his eyes revealed that incipient form of brain
disease which begins in fanaticism, and ends not infrequently in
religious madness. His manner of greeting the priest was absolutely
servile. He cringed before the illustrious Jesuit.

Father Benwell took no notice of these demonstrations of humility.
"Be seated, my son," he said. Mr. Mortleman looked as if he would have
preferred going down on his knees, but he yielded, and took a chair.

"I think you have been Mr. Romayne's companion for a few days, in the
hours of recreation?" the priest began.

"Yes, Father."

"Does he appear to be at all weary of his residence in this house?"

"Oh, far from it! He feels the benign influence of The Retreat; we have
had some delightful hours together."

"Have you anything to report?"

Mr. Mortleman crossed his hands on his breast and bowed profoundly.
"I have to report of myself, Father, that I have committed the sin of
presumption. I presumed that Mr. Romayne was, like myself, not married."

"Have I spoken to you on that subject?"

"No, Father."