"In the name of heaven, what is it?" gasped Robert.
"Why, surely, sir, the dear child's religion."
"Now is it possible, Deane, that you think we would ever interfere with that? Have we ever done so by word, or look, or deed, in all the years we've known you? Have not you, ever since you came into this business, been free to observe your holy days in your own way? Have we not always been ready—even when my mother's spirits were at the lowest—to spare Polly to go to mass or confession? I am really hurt, and feel that we don't deserve this?"
"It is all true, Mr. Robert, and the Lord reward you, as he will; but don't you see it might be different—I don't say that it would; but I'm bound to do my best for my girl's soul no less than her body—if she was your wife, and so completely in your power? There's no doubt that a young man in love will promise anything, and mean to keep his word too; but ours is a despised religion (God be praised for it!'); it is one among many signs that it is the true one; and you might come to be ashamed that one so near and dear to you belonged to it, and that would breed great unhappiness. Then, again, you might have children, and I should not dare give my consent to their being reared Protestants. Perhaps, if some ancestor of yours had been firm in such a case as this, you and yours might be still of the old faith."
"I'm sure, as far as I'm concerned, Deane, I wish we were. No one will go to heaven, if Polly doesn't; and the religion that would take her there can't be bad for any one. She might make a Catholic of me."
"God grant it, sir; but don't you see that I must not act on chance? If the child was breaking her heart for you, and"—smiling—"it's not come to that yet, I could not let her risk her soul, and perhaps her children's souls."
"Look here, Mr. Deane: I'm quite ready to give you a written promise [{409}] that I will never interfere in any way with Polly's practising her religion, and that all her children—boys as well as girls—shall be brought up in it; and I'm sure my mother will make no difficulty."
"You cannot say more, Mr. Robert; but still, if you please, I will take a week to think the matter over, and talk about it to Father Armand and Polly, and for that time I think she'd better come home. She must feel awkward in the same house with you under present circumstances. Will you give my respects to Mrs. Wickham, and say that I will call for the child this evening?"
Numerous, and all wide of the truth, were Mrs. Wickham's and Robert's conjectures respecting the vicar. They began even to consider whether he had ever shown any symptoms of insanity, and were thankful to know that it was not hereditary in the family.
The week stipulated for by Mr. Deane passed; and after consulting Father Armand and Mr. Scharderlowe, he agreed to give his consent to Polly's marrying Robert at the end of a year, if he were then equally willing to bind himself by a written promise to respect her faith, and have his children brought up in it. They said they thought that the kind, liberal, honorable character of the Wickhams being considered, and having been proved in all their conduct to the Deanes, and the difficulty of Catholic marrying Catholic (which was far, far greater in England then than it is now) being weighed, the case was as hopeful as a mixed marriage could be.