"Yet it is against the canons of Holy Church—to give a true believer to an outright heretic!"
"She should be free to believe and practise her religion without change," I argued.
"True, but the children?" he demanded. "How as to the children?"
The wine spilled from my upraised glass, and I bent my head quickly aside to hide the strange emotion which overcame me. Children! Never had my thoughts dared roam so far into the future. Children—my children and hers! From the depths of my heart there gushed up such a flood of tenderness and adoration that I could not speak.
Despite his gouty toe, he came around before me, and with a finger beneath my chin, raised my head until he could look down into my eyes. Whether or not he read my thoughts I do not know. But I do know that he raised his hands above me and gave me his benediction.
"Padre," I murmured as he drew back a little way, "believe me, if I could do what you wish—"
"Swear that your children shall be raised in the Church," he demanded.
"I cannot swear that, padre. It would be against my conscience."
"Your word is enough."
"Nor that. But if this will satisfy you, I give you my word that she shall decide upon the rearing of—of our children throughout childhood."