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"
"What sort of meeting?"
Arthur seemed embarrassed by the question.
"It--it was n-not a r-regular meeting," he said
with a nervous little stammer. "A student had
come from Genoa, and he made a speech to us--
a-a sort of--lecture."
"What did he lecture about?"
Arthur hesitated. "You won't ask me his
name, Padre, will you? Because I promised----"
"I will ask you no questions at all, and if you
have promised secrecy of course you must not tell
me; but I think you can almost trust me by this
time."
"Padre, of course I can. He spoke about--us
and our duty to the people--and to--our own
selves; and about--what we might do to
help----"
"To help whom?"
"The contadini--and----"
"And?"
"Italy."
There was a long silence.
"Tell me, Arthur," said Montanelli, turning to
him and speaking very gravely, "how long have
you been thinking about this?"
"Since--last winter."
"Before your mother's death? And did she
know of it?"
"N-no. I--I didn't care about it then.


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