You see now, Padre, from what I've told you, how easy it is being made
for me to slip out of this circle. Brian, beaming with happiness, and on
the point of opening his heart to Dierdre's almost worshipping love:
Mother Beckett slowly getting back a measure of frail, flower-like
health, in this lovely place which she calls Jim's: Father Beckett more
at ease about her, and intensely interested in his scheme: the small,
neat Belgian refugette likely to prove at least a ministering mouse if
not a ministering angel: above all, hope if not certainty that Jim will
one day return--not only in spirit but in body--to his chateau and his
family. If I am needed anywhere on earth, it isn't here, but down in the
south at my poor Hopital des Epidemies. Would it be cowardly in me to
fly, as soon as I've persuaded the Becketts to spare me, and throw the
responsibility I haven't dared decide to take, upon my brave, blind
Brian?
Ah, I don't mean telling him about myself and my sins. I shouldn't have
the courage for that, I fear! I mean, shall I tell him about Doctor
Paul's message--or _supposed_ message? It has just occurred to me that I
might do this, and let Brian decide whether Father Beckett ought to
know, even if no further news comes through Switzerland. You see, if I
were gone, and Jim came, I could trust the new Dierdre to do her best
for me with Brian. He could never respect me, never love me in the old
way--but he might forgive, because of Dierdre herself--and because of
the great Plan.
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