Barty laughed and shook hands again, and left the Professor staring.
Then he was a great deal with Father Louis. They went to Ghent together, and other places of interest; and to concerts in Brussels.
The good Dominican was very sorrowful at the prospect of soon losing his friend. Poor Barty! The trial it was to him not to reveal his secret to this singularly kind and sympathetic comrade; not even under the seal of confession! So he did not confess at all; although he would have confessed anything to Father Louis, even if Father Louis had not been a priest. There are the high Catholics, who understand the souls of others, and all the difficulties of the conscience, and do not proselytize in a hurry; and the low Catholics, the converts of the day before yesterday, who will not let a body be!
Father Louis was a very high Catholic indeed.
The Lady Caroline Grey, 12A Scamore Place, London, to M. Josselin, 36 Rue des Ursulines Blanches, Malines:
"My dear little Barty,—Your nice long letter made me very happy—happy beyond description; it makes me almost jealous to think that you should have suddenly got so much better in your health and spirits while I was away: you won't want me any more! That doesn't prevent my longing to get back to you. You must put up with your poor old aunty for a little while yet.
"And now for my news—I couldn't write before. Poor papa was buried on Monday, and we all came back here next day. He has left you £200: c'est toujours ça! Everything seems in a great mess. Your Uncle Runswick[1] is going to be very poor indeed; he is going to let Castle Rohan, and live here all the year round. Poor fellow, he looks as old as his father did ten years ago, and he's only sixty‑three! If Algy could only make a good marriage! At forty that's easier said than done.
"Archibald and his wife are at a place called Monte Carlo, where there are gaming‑tables: she gambles fearfully, it seems; and they lead a cat‑and‑dog life. She is plus que coquette, and extravagant to a degree; and he is quite shrunk and prematurely old, and almost shabby, and drinks more brandy than he ought.
"Daphne is charming, and is to come out next spring; she will have £3000 a year, lucky child; all out of chocolate. What nonsense we've all talked about trade! we shall all have to take to it in time. The Lonlay‑Savignac people were wise in their generation.