Oh, what have you done with my
Isabel?" He put out his hand and seized her arm. "Give her back to me,
Aunt Margaret; give her back to me."
He dropped into his seat and hid his face on his arm; and there was a sob
or two.
"Sit up and be a man, Hubert," broke in Mistress Margaret's voice, clear
and cool.
He looked up in amazement with wet indignant eyes. She was looking at
him, smiling tenderly.
"And now, for the second time, give me half a glass of wine, dear boy."
He poured it out, bewildered at her self-control.
"For a man that has been round the world," she said, "you are but a
foolish child."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you never thought of a way of yet winning Isabel," she asked.
"What do you mean?" he repeated.
"Why, come back to the Church, dear lad; and make your mother and me
happy again, and marry Isabel, and save your own soul."
"Aunt Margaret," he cried, "it is impossible. I have truly lost my faith
in the Catholic religion; and--and--you would not have me a hypocrite."
"Ah! ah!" said the nun, "you cannot tell yet. Please God it may come
back. Oh! dear boy, in your heart you know it is true."
"Before God, in my heart I know that it is not true."
"No, no, no," she said; but the light died out of her eyes, and she
stretched a tremulous hand.
"Yes, Aunt Margaret, it is so. For years and years I have been doubting;
but I kept on just because it seemed to me the best religion; and--and I
would not be driven out of it by her Grace's laws against my will, like a
dog stoned from his kennel.
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