But what had that to do with Carmen? Nothing––except––why, to be sure, the girl came from a Catholic country, and therefore was a Catholic! Mrs. Hawley-Crowles chuckled. That was worth developing a little further. “Let us see,” she reflected, “Kathleen Ames is coming out this winter, too. Just about Carmen’s age. Candidate for her mother’s social position, of course. Now the Ames family are all Presbyterians. The Reverend Darius Borwell, D.D., L.L.D., and any other D. that will keep him glued to his ten-thousand-dollar salary, hooked them early in the game. Now suppose––suppose Lafelle should tell the Beaubien that––that there’s––no, that won’t do! But suppose I tell him that here’s a chance for him to back a Catholic against a Protestant for the highest social honors in New York––Carmen versus Kathleen––what would he say? Humph! I’m just as good a Catholic as Protestant. Jim was Irish––clear through. And Catholic, Methodist, or Hard-shell Baptist, as suited his needs. He played ’em all. Suppose I should tip it off to Lafelle that I’m smitten with the pious intention of donating an altar to Holy Saints Cathedral in memory of my late, unlamented consort––what then? It’s worth considering, anyway. Yes, it’s not a bad idea at all.”
And thus it was that a few days later Mrs. Hawley-Crowles timed it so carefully that she chanced to call on the Beaubien with Carmen shortly after Monsignor Lafelle’s car had pulled up at the same door. It was the merest accident, too, that Carmen led her puffing guardian directly into the morning room, where sat the Beaubien and Monsignor in earnest conversation. Mrs. Hawley-Crowles would have retired at once, stammering apologies, and reprimanding Carmen for her assumption of liberties in another’s house; but the Beaubien was grace and cordiality itself, and she insisted on retaining her three callers and making them mutually acquainted.
With the ice thus broken, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles found it easy to take the contemplated plunge. Therefore she smiled 82 triumphantly when, a week later, Monsignor Lafelle alighted at her own door, in response to a summons on matters pertaining to the Church.
“But, Madam,” replied the holy man, after carefully listening to her announcement, “I can only refer the matter to the Bishop. I am not connected with this diocese. I am traveling almost constantly. But I shall be most pleased to lay it before him, with my endorsement.”
“As you say, Monsignor,” sweetly responded the gracious Mrs. Hawley-Crowles. “I sought your advice because I had met you through my dear friend, Madam Beaubien.”
“It has been a great pleasure to know you and to be of service to you, Madam,” said Monsignor, rising to depart. “But,” he added with a tender smile, “a pleasure that would be enhanced were you to become one of us.”
Mrs. Hawley-Crowles knew that at last the time had come. “A moment, please, Monsignor,” she said, her heart beating quickly. “There is another matter. Please be seated. It concerns my ward, the young girl whom you met at Madam Beaubien’s.”
“Ah, indeed!” said the man, resuming his seat. “A beautiful girl.”
“Yes!” returned Mrs. Hawley-Crowles enthusiastically. “And just budding into still more beautiful womanhood.” She stopped and reflected a moment. Then she threw herself precipitately into her topic, as if she feared further delay would result in the evaporation of her boldness. “Monsignor, it is, as you say, unfortunate that I profess no religious convictions; and yet, as I have told you, I find that as the years pass I lean ever more strongly toward your Church. Now you will pardon me when I say that I am sure it is the avowed intention to make America dominantly Catholic that brings you to this country to work toward that end––is it not so?”
The man’s handsome face lighted up pleasantly, but he did not reply. The woman went on without waiting.