"Qualms of doubt as to my being but nineteen, or to my skill in music?" I asked.
"Neither; your age I never made an objection, and I daresay your music will do very well for the present. Here's Mr. Paler."
He came in, the same apparently shy, silent, portly man as at Nulle, in his gold spectacles. But he came up kindly to me, and shook hands.
"My doubts turn upon serious points, Miss Hereford," pursued Mrs. Paler. "If I thought you would undermine the faith of my children and imbue them with Roman Catholic doctrines——"
"Mrs. Paler!" I interrupted in surprise. "I told you I was a Protestant, brought up strictly in the tenets of the Church of England. Your children are of the same faith: there is little fear, then, that I should seek to undermine it. I know of none better in the world."
"You must excuse my anxiety, Miss Hereford. Can you conscientiously assure me that you hate all Roman Catholics?"
I looked at her in amazement. And she looked at me, waiting for my answer. A smile, unless I mistook, crossed the lips of Mr. Paler.
"Oh, Mrs. Paler, what would my own religion be worth if I could hate? Believe me there are excellent Christians amidst the Roman Catholics, as there are amidst us. People who are striving to do their duty in this world, living and working on for the next. Look at the Miss Barlieus! I love them dearly; every one respects them: but I would not change my religion for theirs."
"Is it the fact of your having spent four years in their house that makes me doubtful. But I think can trust you; you look so sincere and true. The alarming number of converts to Romanism which we have of late years been obliged to witness, must make us all fearful."
"Perverts, if you please," interrupted Mr. Paler. "When I hear of our folks going over to the Romish faith, I always suspect they are those who have not done their duty in their own. A man may find all he wants in his own religion, if he only looks out for it."