"Because you do not look so," he answered. "But that is no wonder, considering—" and then he broke off and was silent again.
"How beautiful everything is, and how peaceful!" said I at last. "Do you know it seems so strange to me to think that we are safe. I can hardly believe it."
"It is hard to believe it, even to me, to whom safety comes natural," he answered. "I can scarcely think that yonder is a Protestant church, where all the village will presently assemble to worship, and that my cousin will preach, and say just what he pleases about the mass or anything else."
"Is my cousin the minister?" I asked.
"Yes, the rector, as we call him here. It is but a poor cure, but Mr. Corbet has property of his own. Have you seen any of your cousins yet?"
"Only Cousin Marianne, as she bade me call her. I think she is charming. Is she a widow?"
"No, she has never married."
"Why was that?" I asked, surprised.
"Because she did not choose, I fancy," replied Andrew, smiling. "In England, my cousin, women do not have to choose between a husband and the cloister. I have known more than one lady who has never married, but lived to be a blessing to all about her. Others, I am sorry to say, waste their time in miserable frivolity—in cards and dancing and dress."
"A woman who would live like that when single would most likely do the same if she were married," said I sagely. "And then her family would have to suffer. But I must go back to the house. Maman will wake and miss me."