He was sufficiently a man of the world to be aware that the emotion in which he had reveled could have no satisfactory result. He would no more have considered the advisability of marrying Natalie's maid than would the Marquis de Fleury; and as to any other possibility, such as perchance might have occupied the mind of the noble Marquis, it never even entered his thoughts. In his ignorance he was innocent, and had he been less so, would still have possessed in the moral lessons of his training a sufficient safeguard. Yet the kiss was to have its results. Woman's lips would, to him, bear a different aspect from that of heretofore.
And so the days passed very happily, though Leonard's conscience often pricked him. Natalie's soul was still in danger.
"Cousin," he said one day—they were sitting among the trees of Stormpoint, the girl sketching, he watching her—"Do you——?" He stopped, blushing.
She thought the blush very engaging as she looked up with a smile. Women rarely looked upon the handsome, innocent face, except smilingly. "Do I what, Leonard?" she asked.
"Do you ever think of religion? I am a clergyman, Natalie."
"I think a great deal of religion." Her eyes fell before his. He had touched a secret corner of her heart, and at first she shrank; yet the touch pleased her; not less so because of his manner which, though he was secretly ashamed of it, was in his favor. It was not easy for him to discuss the topic with her, to play the role of teacher and enlarge upon a theme which was far from his thoughts. The fact lent him the grace of embarrassment, leading her to believe that the topic was to him a sacred one. Truly, her soul was burdened. Who more apt to aid her than this young devotee, who had consecrated a life to that knowledge for which she yearned?
"You know, Natalie, as a minister——"
"It is your duty to convert me," she interrupted, looking again upward, and smiling. "That is what Tabitha says."
"Perhaps Tabitha is right. I think I ought."
"Suppose you were to try, what would you have me do?"