III
Dayshowedtheocean’ssurfacenolongerglassy，butlyinglikeamirrorbreathedupon；andtherebetweentheshortheadlandscameasail，grayandplainagainsttheflatwater。Thepriestwatchedthroughhisglasses，andsawthegradualsungrowstronguponthecanvasofthebarkentine。
Themessagefromhisworldwasathand，yetto—dayhescarcelycaredsomuch。Sittinginhisgardenyesterday，hecouldneverhaveimaginedsuchachange。Buthisheartdidnothailthebarkentineasusual。Books，music，palepaper，andprint——thiswasallthatwascomingtohim，someofitssavorhadgone；forthesirenvoiceofLifehadbeenspeakingwithhimfacetoface，andinhisspirit，deepdown，theloveoftheworldwasrestlesslyansweringit。YoungGastonshowedmoreeagernessthanthePadreoverthisarrivalofthevesselthatmightbebringingTrovatoreinthenickoftime。Nowhewouldhavethechance，beforehetookhisleave，tohelprehearsethenewmusicwiththechoir。Hewouldbeamissionary，too:aperfectlynewexperience。
\"AndyoustillforgiveVerdithesinsofhisyouth？\"hesaidtohishost。
\"Iwonderifyoucouldforgivemine？\"