"I was at the Mass yesterday."
"I know," said Tristram.
"I mean I was at your Mass."
"I know," said Tristram again. "I've been waiting for you to tell me." There was a silence.
"You have my pocket-money," suggested a miserable voice, for Maurice always associated misdeeds with an immediate penalty, and anything was better than suspense. But he looked up from the floor to find that Tristram was smiling.
"My son," said the latter, "for your punishment I am going to explain to you the Anglican position. I have always disagreed with your mother in not trying to make this clear to you before."
It was not punishment to Maurice. Sin had brought him what had never been granted to virtuous behaviour. He listened with the most rapt attention, until Tristram, leaning back in his chair, said "Do you understand now, my boy, why you are forbidden to attend an Anglican service? It is for this reason that you must regard me as a heretic, though I can believe myself and you to belong equally to the Catholic Church. Perhaps you can understand, too, how hard it has been for your mother, so ardently devoted to her own faith, to bring you up in a religion which must of necessity separate you from her. Not that she ever hesitated."
He got up. "Come with me, Maurice. I am going to show you something." And, leading him to a little room at the top of the house, he unlocked a chest. "I won't take them out, but you can see what they are—the full Eucharistic dress of a priest."
"Oh, Mass vestments," said Maurice, looking in.
"They have been given, but they cannot be worn yet." He unlocked another case and showed the boy the sacramental plate, still unconsecrated. One of the chalices was studded with large pearls, the other with different stones.