He looked up in amazement with wet indignant eyes. She was looking at him, smiling tenderly.
“And now, for the second time, give me half a glass of wine, dear boy.”
He poured it out, bewildered at her self-control.
“For a man that has been round the world,” she said, “you are but a foolish child.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you never thought of a way of yet winning Isabel,” she asked.
“What do you mean?” he repeated.
“Why, come back to the Church, dear lad; and make your mother and me happy again, and marry Isabel, and save your own soul.”
“Aunt Margaret,” he cried, “it is impossible. I have truly lost my faith in the Catholic religion; and—and—you would not have me a hypocrite.”
“Ah! ah!” said the nun, “you cannot tell yet. Please God it may come back. Oh! dear boy, in your heart you know it is true.”