"At Seaton. A good seven miles from you," said Charles.
"Yes," answered Campbell; "and he walks to and fro every Sunday."
"That is not like a transition, except a physical one," observed Reding.
"A person must go somewhere," answered Campbell; "I suppose he went to church up to the week he joined the Romanists."
"Very awful, these defections," said Bateman; "but very satisfactory, a melancholy satisfaction," with a look at Charles, "that the victims of delusions should be at length recovered."
"Yes," said Campbell; "very sad indeed. I am afraid we must expect a number more."
"Well, I don't know how to think it," said Charles; "the hold our Church has on the mind is so powerful; it is such a wrench to leave it, I cannot fancy any party-tie standing against it. Humanly speaking, there is far, far more to keep them fast than to carry them away."
"Yes, if they moved as a party," said Campbell; "but that is not the case. They don't move simply because others move, but, poor fellows, because they can't help it.—Bateman, will you let my chaise be brought round?—How can they help it?" continued he, standing up over the fire; "their Catholic principles lead them on, and there's nothing to drive them back."
"Why should not their love for their own Church?" asked Bateman; "it is deplorable, unpardonable."
"They will keep going one after another, as they ripen," said Campbell.