"Mary is no myth," said the Comte de Villeneuve, "she is a real, holy, pure, and loving woman, to be loved with a personal affection!"
"Beware!" said Mr. Godfrey, "our family has suffered enough already from these fantastic dreams. Eugene's Catholicity has driven his mother crazy. If my Hester were to succumb, it would be even worse with me. Let us make a truce with religion, I see it will produce no other fruits than to set people buy the ears."
"As you will. I am leaving for America, can I bear a greeting from you to my father?"
"Tell him to inspire his son with a little of his common sense. In a twenty years' intercourse he never mentioned the word religion in my family."
"You must forgive me, Mr. Godfrey," said the comte rising. "I thought to console your daughter; she is much changed since I saw her last."
Hester was much changed, but never so much as now. She longed to thank the comte, to unsay her father's rude words, but she dared not. She dared not anger Mr. Godfrey. Nor was it necessary: her eyes had kindled, her countenance had glowed, and the comte felt that his words had not been thrown away, that Hester had received a revelation, and he departed consoled.
It was a new study that Hester now entered upon. Woman as she was in the olden time: in Greece and Rome; in Egypt and Abyssinia; in Persia and India. Woman as she is everywhere where Christianity is not known, where the mothership of Mary is ignored. The facts presented to her were appalling, and none the less so that Mr. Godfrey was so peevish when addressed on this subject. He felt intuitively that the more Hester knew of this, the more she would shrink from materialism; and if she abandoned him, if she adopted Catholicity, he would have lost his last hope. He began to tire of "perfectibility" and "progress," the more that they seemed to detach his only joy from his side.
Yet with an old man's obstinacy he would not yield. Hester continued her system, but now it was to watch more closely its results, to penetrate the secret workings of the heart. She wanted to speak of higher motive than self, but she knew not how. She only knew, and daily she knew it more, that some high controlling power was wanting which could speak to the heart and regulate the inward spirit: "Was that power God?" "And Mary, was she a real manifestation of the power of God residing in a woman's frame?"
Hester now wished this might be true.