“Indeed I do not; I was thinking—forgive me—of some person much nearer me.”
“I suppose it would be proper not to understand your civility?—But that is not my way—I don't make a courtesy for it because I am sitting on horseback. But, seriously, I deserve your exception, for I am the only conversable being about the Hall, except the old priest and Rashleigh.”
“And who is Rashleigh, for Heaven's sake?”
“Rashleigh is one who would fain have every one like him for his own sake. He is Sir Hildebrand's youngest son—about your own age, but not so—not well looking, in short. But nature has given him a mouthful of common sense, and the priest has added a bushelful of learning; he is what we call a very clever man in this country, where clever men are scarce. Bred to the church, but in no hurry to take orders.”
“To the Catholic Church?”
“The Catholic Church? what Church else?” said the young lady. “But I forgot—they told me you are a heretic. Is that true, Mr. Osbaldistone?”
“I must not deny the charge.”
“And yet you have been abroad, and in Catholic countries?”
“For nearly four years.”
“You have seen convents?”