Alice seemed to have something to say, but hesitated.
“Ah, I see,” cried Mrs. Rolfe, jumping to a conclusion. “He has thrown off his incognito, and there was something dreadful,—a living wife in a lunatic asylum—or—”
Alice smiled. “No, it is nothing of that kind. To tell you the truth, it is all nonsense. Mary is making a mountain of a mole-hill.”
“A mountain of a mole-hill?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“It is all perfectly absurd—”
“What disturbs the poor child,—tell me?”
“Some nonsensical fears as to his religious tendencies.”
“His religious tendencies?” echoed Mrs. Rolfe, puzzled. Suddenly light seemed to break upon her. “For heaven’s sake, Alice,” she cried, pale with anxiety, “you do not mean to say that he is a Catholic! Don’t tell me that. Tell me that he is a—a—an Atheist,—anything but a Catholic!”