"I beg pardon; I knew not that your grace—"
"It matters not what you knew," haughtily rejoined the duchess. "It behoves every man of common sense, or of common education, to speak respectfully of a faith which for so many centuries has formed the religion not only of the commonalty but of the heroes of the race. The names of Alfred the Great and Charlemagne, of Copernicus and Michael Angelo, with countless others, may weigh a little perhaps against the opinion of so enlightened an individual as Sir Philip Conway."
The withering sarcasm of tone with which this was uttered made Mr. Godfrey bite his lips. He felt at once that he had not lowered her mother in Adelaide's estimation by informing her of that mother's becoming a Catholic; and he began to wonder which would be the next seceder from rationalistic principle. "A curse is fallen upon our house," he again muttered between his teeth.
The conference was necessarily a painful one; but it was with indescribable surprise and emotion that the assembled family heard Mr. Godfrey propose that Annie should take refuge in the convent in which dwelt her friend Euphrasie.
"Why, papa;" whispered Hester, "have you changed your opinion of convents? You used to call them sinks of iniquity. Why do you wish to imprison Annie in one?"
"Hush, my dear," answered her father, in the lowest possible whisper, "all convents are not alike. I happen to know the antecedents of the superioress and of several of the nuns in this one; they are all ladies of high birth, and are altogether above suspicion. They are austere fanatics, that is all. Annie will take no vows, and there she will see the extent of the folly to which religious enthusiasm lays us open. If a twelvemonth's residence among the poor Clares does not set her brain in order, then she is irrecoverably lost to us—we may set her down as incurably insane."
While this little dialogue was going on, Eugene and Adelaide, jointly and severally, were urging Annie to make a home with one or other of themselves, each promising to do the utmost to regain for her the custody of her children; but Annie, while she mournfully thanked them for their kindness, decided that, at least till she had taken time for reflection, she would abide by her father's advice, that is, provided the sisterhood would consent to receive her.
After vainly endeavoring to shake her resolution, the duchess resolved on accompanying her to the north to see whether suitable arrangements could be made for her comfort.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE JOURNEY—THE CONVENT.
It was well for Annie that the care of a sister watched over her during that sad journey, for sometimes her mind seemed almost to have lost its balance, and she would weep frantically over the loss of her little ones, as one who would not be comforted; then with a sudden revolution of feeling she would stop, and say, "Thy will be done, O Lord," and would begin to say her beads, as Eugene had taught her, with most edifying resignation. After awhile the thought of her little ones would make her weep anew, and again the thought of God would check her tears.