The papal champion gravely surveyed the outline of the little cruciform church, as it shimmered, warm and mellow, in the misty sunshine at their feet.
“Yes, I know,” he remarked. “I met our friend Andersen there the other day. He told me he had been doing the work quite alone. He said it was one of the most interesting things he had ever done. By the way, I am confident that that rumour we heard, of his getting unsettled in his mind, is absolutely untrue. I have never found him more sensible—you know how silent he is as a rule? When I met him he was quite eloquent on the subject of mediæval carving.”
Vennie looked down and smiled—a sad little smile. “I’m afraid,” she said; “that his talking so freely is not quite a good sign. But do let’s go. I have never looked at those queer figures with anyone but my mother; and you know the way she has of making everything seem as if it were an ornament on her own mantelpiece.”
They began descending the hill, Mr. Taxater displaying more agility than might have been expected of him, as they scrambled down between furze-bushes, rabbit-holes, and beds of yellow trefoil.
“How dreadfully I shall miss you, dear child,” he said. “No one could accuse me of selfishness in furthering your wish for the religious life. Half the pleasant discoveries I’ve made in this charming country have been due to you.”
The young girl turned and regarded him affectionately. “You have been more than a father to me,” she murmured.
“Ah, Vennie, Vennie!” he protested, “you mustn’t talk like that. After all, the greatest discovery we have made, is the discovery of your calling for religion. I have much to be thankful for. It is not often that I have been permitted such a privilege. If we had not been thrown together, who knows but that the influence of our good Clavering——”
Vennie blushed scarlet at the mention of the priest’s name, and to hide her confusion, buried her head in a great clump of rag-wort, pressing its yellow clusters vehemently against her cheeks, with agitated trembling hands.
When she lifted up her face, the fair hair under her hat was sprinkled with dewy moisture. “The turn of the year has come,” she said. “There’s mist on everything today.” She smiled, with a quick embarrassed glance at her companion.
“The turn of the year has come,” repeated the champion of the papacy.