“Leo and his prayers are so much to my mother and to you,” he said. “Can you bear all these debates and controversies about the deepest things of all? They seem to me like troops of Huns wheeling around within the very Holy of Holies. They make everything like a mere word-battle and empty show to me. Or they did make it so till lately,” he added, glancing at her with a new light in his eyes.
“I don’t know all the mistaken things other people have been thinking,” she answered quietly, “but to me Bishop Leo always seems simply unfolding into full, beautiful blossom the faith Patrick taught us in the Creed and the Hymn. He always seems building a fortress and stronghold for us all. But the fortress is for us also a home; for we are children, inside. He makes me think often of the words they chant in church: ‘The Lord is my Rock and my Fortress,’ the sweet voices say; and the others answer, ‘He shall defend thee under His wings, and thou shalt be safe under His feathers.’ Stone buttresses of a fortress to the enemy outside; to those within, a warm nest with the soft feathers and downy breast of a mother-bird brooding over us. For the stronghold is not anything Bishop Leo builds, but God Himself, to Whom he leads us, and God is love.”
“And you yourself have led me within, and we are together.”
“We are together,” said Ethne.
And that evening they said no more.
The days sped quickly away in the palace on the Aventine. Dewi’s wound was rather slow in healing; and until their faithful messenger could return, there was a suspense as to the possibility of decisions for the future.
Day by day as it passed drew the little company closer to each other.
In those days it was an unquestioned right and duty of parents to dispose of their sons and daughters in marriage. It was a responsibility and a power not to be set aside.
“There must be two marriages,” Fabricius said decisively to Damaris. “These four are clearly made for each other.”
“Dost thou see what that would mean for us?” she replied.