It seemed the more treasonable to desert the Father Superior
now that he was in the midst of a desperate struggle. Maurice knew,
however, that it was useless to carry to his old confessor doubts
which for the heart of the stern priest could not exist. He would
simply be told that doubt was of the devil and was to be crushed; and
the young man felt that this would leave him where he was now. If he
were to seek aid, it must at least be from one who would understand his
state of mind.
Wynne resumed his clerical garb on the morning after his return to
Boston. His conscience reproached him for the strong distaste which he
felt for the dress, and his spirits were of the lowest. About the
middle of the forenoon, he started out to try the effects of a walk. It
was a clear, brisk morning, with a white frost still on the pavements
where the sun had not fallen. The air was invigorating, and Maurice
began to feel its exhilaration. He walked more briskly, holding his
head more erect, even forgetting to be irritated by the swish of his
cassock about his legs. Without consciously determining whither he
would go, he followed the streets toward the house of Mr.
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