"There is one thing, Adeline. Whatever be your decision you must not impart the nature of the impediment to Mr. St. John."
"Not tell him the cause!" she gasped--and the very words spoke all too plainly of what the decision would be--"not tell him!"
"Holy saints, no!" he rejoined, his voice rising between surprise, anger, and emotion. "I had scarcely thought it necessary to caution you. Not a word must be breathed. Our Church permits not her modes of dealing to be revealed to--to heretics."
He had made a pause at the last word, as if unwilling to speak it. With all his coldness and his bigotry, he was an essentially courteous man at heart. Adeline clasped her hands in piteous beseeching, but he interrupted the prayer hovering upon her lips.
"It must not be, Adeline: Mr. St. John is not one of us. Surely you are not growing disaffected!" he continued, in a sharp tone. "It has occurred to me at times that I may have done wrong in allowing you to be so much here in your grandmother's home. When she married she quitted her Protestant faith and embraced ours, but I doubt whether she has ever been zealous in it at heart."
The tears shone in her eyes at the accusation, but she was too miserable, too agitated to let them fall.
"Only a hint to him, papa!" she implored. "Permit it to me in mercy. Only a hint!"
"Not a hint; not a word," he sternly rejoined. "I forbid it. The Church forbids it. Promise this."
"I promise," she faintly said, yielding to the compulsion.
"Kiss the crucifix."