The Sunday appointed for the christening drew near. On the Saturday preceding, Juliet called on Dr. Browne. Having largely expatiated upon her happy anticipations of the morrow, she proceeded to relate to the rector the march her husband had stolen upon her.
"And do you not know, Mrs. Temple," said the doctor, surprised, "that, if your child has been baptized by Father Duffy, that is sufficient? There is no need for our ceremony to-morrow," and the rector saw in imagination a handsome fee that failed to reach his grasp.
"Is it possible," cried Juliet, disappointed and grieved to the heart, "that you consider baptism in the Catholic Church of any worth whatsoever?"
"Most assuredly we do," answered the doctor.
"But I thought they were idolaters and heathens. How can heathens baptize?"
"The Romish was the first Apostolic Church; after many years it imbibed errors and became corrupt. The Church of which we are members, which should really be termed Catholic and not Episcopal, came out from her, retaining her truth, rejecting her errors and superstitions. We maintain that the Church of Christ must be Apostolic, therefore are compelled to admit that to have been the true Church from which we sprang. We are really a branch of the Romish Church, unpalatable as it may be to some of us."
Had Juliet given attention to the rector's theology, she would have remarked that it was giving the Romish Church too much credit. But for her his words fell idly; she was intent on having her baby christened at St. Mark's.
"But, Dr. Browne, nobody knows my baby has been baptized. Cannot the christening go on just the same?"
"By no means," spoke the clergyman, decidedly. "It is contrary to custom, and to the laws of the Church."
Juliet went home sick at heart. So many preparations, and all for nothing; so many hopes and dreams, and all blown up like bubbles. In her grief and confusion the complicated question as to whether her child were a Catholic or an Episcopalian did not intrude itself.