"Brother Thomas has lived and knows what life is, and I cannot help thinking the cloister, will not bring him peace," said Lionel.
"What a power in the church the nuns are," said Vaura; "not in her grand ceremonial, not in her unity, not in her much gold dwelleth her greatest and most powerful arm, but in her gentle sisterhood."
"True," said Lionel; "though I cannot but think, that the church would have gained more had they united the Saxon nun with the now Brother Thomas; what a power their united lives, and with much gold; his influence will not tell immurred in a cell."
"I am sure we shall not soon forget the story of poor Brother Thomas and Sister Faith," remarked Vaura.
"There was a time," said Lionel, "when I used to wonder that so many fellows gave up this life of ours and buried themselves in a monastry, but as I listened to the priest I felt that if a man is feeling that the love of the one woman he craves can never be his, that, as an escape from the speculative eye of Mrs. Grundy, a cell might look inviting."
"So you give Mrs. Grundy credit for a speculative eye, Lionel," said
Lady Esmondet, amusingly.
"What else is she but a speculator? she is ever busy, always alive and speculating with some unfortunate beings, name or fame," said Lionel bitterly.
"I am glad we have run away from her; she cannot be with us on the mountains, so rest easy for to-day, Lionel," answered Lady Esmondet.
"No," said Vaura, earnestly; "the Alpine heights are too pure and too lofty for her, she loves the heated gaslit salon, with the music of many voices; but we are all the better for an outing with Dame Nature, I do love her so, with her sunlit air, her breezy fan, her robes of green, while her children, the brook and field, sing and laugh, they are so merry and so rich; yes, I love her so, I should just like to take her in my arms; see the birds in the trees as we pass, she rocks them to sleep, for as she breathes she sways the branches to and fro, and so gives a tuneful accompanyment to their song ere they rest."
And so in gay chit-chat or more serious converse, the descent into fair Italia is made. The grand passion of Trevalyon's life becoming more earnest, and completely mastering him for this sweet woman; the companion of his journey; for not only her grace and rich beauty made him her captive, but her tender womanliness, underlying her vivacity, charmed him, and his eyes were seldom off her face as she sat opposite him; he was never tired of watching the ever-warying expression of her countenance; and poor Lionel, subdued at last, felt he must clear himself to Eric Haughton, and have her ever beside him.