"Nay, I don't know," she answered; "I believe it is the way one-half the world receive their religion, whatever it may be."
"Right," he said, "right! You are right, and I was wrong--not only their religion, but half their views. You were born a Protestant, and so was I; but I must say, happy are those whose reason, when it becomes mature, confirms the principles they have received in their youth. So it has been with me; and, I trust, with you also."
"Nay, I do not know that my reason is mature," replied the lady, with a smile: "but everything I have thought and read leads me to think that I cannot be wrong. It seems to me that the religion, which was taught to fishermen by its Divine author, to be preached to all the world, may be well read, and studied unadorned, by the descendants of the world that then existed: it seems, to me, that if priests married they were as likely to be as good priests, and better men; it seems to me, that when our religion teaches to confess our faults one to another, there was no thought of setting apart a particular order of men to be the registrars of all our wickedness, but rather to correct that stubborn pride which hardens us in evil, by inducing us to deny our guilt. Moreover, I think that the habit of bowing down before pieces of stone and wood, of praying to sinners like ourselves when they are dead, and of kissing solemnly a piece of ivory on a cross, is something very like idolatry.--But I know little of all these things. I read the Bible, and am convinced myself; and yet I cannot make up my mind to think that good men, with faith in a Saviour, will perish eternally because they judge differently. Now you have won from me an account of my faith; but pray do not tell any one; for half our clergy would think I was part papist, and the other half part fool."
"You have thought of these things deeply, at all events," replied Algernon Grey, "and that is something, where so few think at all."
"Oh, one cannot help thinking of these things here, where one hears little else from morning till night; but I have thought of them, too, for other reasons," she said more gravely. "One has need of consolations in this world, at times. There is but one true source from which they flow; and before we drink at that source, it is needful to ascertain if the stream be pure. Still we are very grave," she continued: "Heaven help us! if they did but know in yon gay saloons of what we two here are talking in the gardens, they would open their eyes with wonder, and perhaps their lips with laughter."
"Well, then, we will change our tone," continued Algernon Grey; "come, let us range along those higher terraces, where I see a long line of arches, tall, and slim, and one beyond another, like the fragment of a Roman aqueduct striding across the valley."
"Gladly," she answered; "the air will be cooler there, for it is higher; and we shall have it all to ourselves; for the gay world of the court will linger down here till the trumpets sound to supper. I love the high free air and solitude. One draws a finer breath upon the mountains, and I often wish I were an eagle to soar above their jagged tops and drink the breath of heaven itself. But here comes your gay companion, and the fair lady of Laussitz."
"Who may she be?" inquired the young Englishman.
"A very pretty lady, somewhat gay," replied his companion; "but you must forgive me, my good captive, if I tell you nought of the ladies of this court. In truth, I know very little; for I hear much that I do not believe, much that I cannot be sure of; and, though I see sometimes what I would not see, yet I would fain judge all charitably, and put no harsh construction on other people's acts."
As she spoke Lovet and the fair countess passed at some little distance; and certainly, to all appearance, he had made some progress to intimacy in a marvellous short space of time. She might be fatigued, it is true--it might be but an idle habit she had gained; but still, the arm that was passed through his let the fair hand drop till it met her left hand, which she had raised, and the round but taper fingers of either were intertwined together. The head, slightly inclined over the left shoulder, drooped somewhat forward, as if the eyes were cast upon the ground, while the ear was raised to catch his words. There was a languor in her figure and in her air, an ill-assured step, a certain feebleness, as if some powers of mind or body were failing. It was his voice spoke as they passed. "Nay, nonsense," he said; "these are all idle nothings, bugbears set up to make the grown children of the world good boys. Come, fair one, come; do not assume a pettish anger that you do not feel. Love was made for such a heart as yours, and such an hour for love," and, bending down his head, he added somewhat more.