It spoke soothingly; it encouraged her; it led her on by apposite questions that seemed to be suggested by a great and tender interest, and acted like magnetism in attracting the girl's confidence to this unseen friend.

The priest's share in the interview, indeed, resembled that of one who removes the stones, clustered branches, or whatever entanglements impede the current of a swollen stream.

Hilda could have imagined--so much to the purpose were his inquiries--that he was already acquainted with some outline of what she strove to tell him.
Thus assisted, she revealed the whole of her terrible secret! The whole, except that no name escaped her lips.
And, ah, what a relief! When the hysteric gasp, the strife between words and sobs, had subsided, what a torture had passed away from her soul! It was all gone; her bosom was as pure now as in her childhood.

She was a girl again; she was Hilda of the dove-cote; not that doubtful creature whom her own doves had hardly recognized as their mistress and playmate, by reason of the death-scent that clung to her garments! After she had ceased to speak, Hilda heard the priest bestir himself with an old man's reluctant movement.

He stepped out of the confessional; and as the girl was still kneeling in the penitential corner, he summoned her forth.
"Stand up, my daughter," said the mild voice of the confessor; "what we have further to say must be spoken face to face." Hilda did his bidding, and stood before him with a downcast visage, which flushed and grew pale again.