Once or twice she began to speak, but failed; and sat panting and staring at him.
“My darling,” he said, “do not look like that: we are both Christians still: we at least serve the same God. Surely you will not cast me off for this?”
“Cast you off?” she said; and she laughed piteously and sharply; and then was grave again. Then she suddenly cried,
“Oh, Anthony, swear to me you are not mocking me.”
“My darling,” he said, “why should I mock you? I have made the Exercises, and have been instructed; and I have here a letter to Mr. Barnes from the priest who has taught me; so that I may be received to-night, and make my Easter duties: and Geoffrey is still at the door holding Roland to take me to Cuckfield to-night.”
“To Cuckfield!” she said. “You will not find Mr. Barnes there.”
“Not there! why not? Where shall I find him? How do you know?”
“Because he is here,” she went on in the same strange voice, “at the Hall.”
“Well,” said Anthony, “that saves me a journey. Why is he here?”
“He is here to say mass to-morrow.”