“Sit down,” he said, drawing her to a seat beside the path at the head of the steps: “and tell me the news.”
By a great effort she regained her self-control.
“I did not know when you were coming,” she said tremulously. “I was startled.”
He talked of his journey for a few minutes; and of the kindness of the friend with whom he had been staying, and the beauty of the house and grounds, and so on; until she seemed herself again; and the piteous startled look had died out of her eyes: and then he forced himself to approach his point; for the horse was waiting saddled; and he must get to Cuckfield and back by supper if possible.
He took her hand and played with it gently as he spoke, turning over her rings.
“Isabel,” he said, “I have news to tell you. It is not bad news—at least I think not—it is the best thing that has ever come to me yet, by the grace of God, and so you need not be anxious or frightened. But I am afraid you may think it bad news. It—it is about religion, Isabel.”
He glanced at her, and saw that terrified look again in her face: she was staring at him, and her hand in his began to twitch and tremble.
“Nay, nay,” he said, “there is no need to look like that. I have not lost my faith in God. Rather, I have gained it. Isabel, I am going to be a Catholic.”
A curious sound broke from her lips; and a look so strange came into her face that he threw his arm round her, thinking she was going to faint: and he spoke sharply.
“Isabel, Isabel, what is there to fear? Look at me!”