"You mean, about that old trouble--our not believing just the same?"
Miss Milray meant something much more temperamental than that, but she allowed Clementina to limit her meaning, and Clementina went on.
"He's changed all round now. He thinks it's all in the life. He says that in China they couldn't understand what he believed, but they could what he lived. And he knows I neva could be very religious."
It was in Miss Milray's heart to protest, " Clementina, I think you are one of the most religious persons I ever knew," but she forebore, because the praise seemed to her an invasion of Clementina's dignity. She merely said, "Well, I am glad he is one of those who grow more liberal as they grow older. That is a good sign for your happiness. But I dare say it's more of his happiness you think."
"Oh, I should like to be happy, too. There would be no sense in it if I wasn't."
"No, certainly not."
"Miss Milray," said Clementina, with a kind of abruptness, "do you eva hear anything from Dr. Welwright?"
"No! Why?" Miss Milray fastened her gaze vividly upon her.
"Oh, nothing. He wanted me to promise him, there in Venice, too."
"I didn't know it."
"Yes. But--I couldn't, then. And now--he's written to me. He wants me to let him come ova, and see me."
"And--and will you?" asked Miss Milray, rather breathlessly.
"I don't know. I don't know as I'd ought. I should like to see him, so as to be puffectly su'a. But if I let him come, and then didn't-- It wouldn't be right! I always felt as if I'd ought to have seen then that he ca'ed for me, and stopped him; but I didn't. No, I didn't," she repeated, nervously. "I respected him, and I liked him; but I neva"--She stopped, and then she asked, "What do you think I'd ought to do, Miss Milray?"