Charles sat down all suspense, looking at Willis with such keen anxiety that the latter was forced to cut the matter short. "Reding, I am a Catholic."
Charles threw himself back in his chair, and turned pale.
"My dear Reding, what is the matter with you? why don't you speak to me?"
Charles was still silent; at last, stooping forward, with his elbows on his knees, and his head on his hands, he said, in a low voice, "O Willis, what have you done!"
"Done?" said Willis; "what you should do, and half Oxford besides. O Reding, I'm so happy!"
"Alas, alas!" said Charles; "but what is the good of my staying?—all good attend you, Willis; good-bye!"
"No, my good Reding, you don't leave me so soon, having found me so unexpectedly; and you have had a long walk, I dare say; sit down, there's a good fellow; we shall have luncheon soon, and you must not go without taking your part in it." He took Charles's hat from him, as he spoke; and Charles, in a mixture of feelings, let him have his way.
"O Willis, so you have separated yourself from us for ever!" he said; "you have taken your course, we keep ours: our paths are different."
"Not so," said Willis; "you must follow me, and we shall be one still."
Charles was half offended; "Really I must go," he said, and he rose; "you must not talk in that manner."