Catholic--"
Romayne's
temper gave way once more.
"If anything can make me a Catholic," he said, "your interference
will do it. "
"Out of sheer perversity, dear Romayne?"
"Not at all, Mrs. Eyrecourt. If I became a Catholic, I might
escape from the society of ladies, in the
refuge of a
monastery."
Mrs. Eyrecourt hit him back again with the readiest dexterity.
"Remain a Protestant, my dear, and go to your club. There is a
refuge for you from the ladies--a
monastery, with nice little
dinners, and all the newspapers and periodicals." Having launched
this shaft, she got up, and recovered her easy
courtesy of look
and manner. "I am so much
obliged to you, Father Benwell. I have
not offended you, I hope and trust?"
"You have done me a service, dear Mrs. Eyrecourt. But for your
salutory
caution, I _might_ have drifted into controversial
subjects. I shall be on my guard now."
"How very good of you! We shall meet again, I hope, under more
agreeable circumstances. After that
politeallusion to a
monastery, I understand that my visit to my son-in-law may as
well come to an end. Please don't forget five o'clock tea at my
house."
As she approached the door, it was opened from the outer side.
Her daughter met her
half-way. "Why are you here, mamma?" Stella
asked.
"Why, indeed, my love! You had better leave the room with me. Our
amiable Romayne's present idea is to
relieve himself of our
society by retiring to a
monastery. Don't you see Father
Benwell?"
Stella
coldly returned the
priest's bow--and looked at Romayne.
She felt a vague forewarning of what had happened. Mrs. Eyrecourt
proceeded to
enlighten her, as an
appropriate expression of
gratitude. "We are indeed
indebted to Father Benwell, my dear. He
has been most
considerate and kind--"
Romayne
interrupted her without
ceremony. "Favor me," he said,
addressing his wife, "by inducing Mrs. Eyrecourt to continue her
narrative in some other room."
Stella was hardly
conscious of what her mother or her husband had
said. She felt that the
priest's eyes were on her. Under any
other circumstances, Father Benwell's good
breeding and knowledge
of the world would have impelled him to take his
departure. As
things were, he knew
perfectly well that the more seriously
Romayne was annoyed, in his presence, the better his own private
interests would be served. Accordingly, he stood apart,
silentlyobservant of Stella. In spite of Winterfield's reassuring reply
to her letter, Stella
instinctively suspected and dreaded the
Jesuit. Under the spell of those
watchful eyes she trembled
inwardly; her
customary tact deserted her; she made an indirect
apology to the man whom she hated and feared.
"Whatever my mother may have said to you, Father Benwell, has
been without my knowledge."
Romayne attempted to speak, but Father Benwell was too quick for
him.
"Dear Mrs. Romayne, nothing has been said which needs any
disclaimer on your part."
"I should think not!" Mrs. Eyrecourt added. "Really, Stella, I
don't understand you. Why may I not say to Father Benwell what
you said to Mr. Penrose? You trusted Mr. Penrose as your friend.
I can tell you this--I am quite sure you may trust Father
Benwell."
Once more Romayne attempted to speak. And, once more, Father
Benwell was
beforehand with him.
"May I hope," said the
priest, with a
finely ironical smile,
"that Mrs. Romayne agrees with her excellent mother?"
With all her fear of him, the exasperating influence of his tone
and his look was more than Stella could
endure. Before she could
restrain them, the rash words flew out of her lips.
"I am not
sufficiently well acquainted with you, Father Benwell,
to express an opinion."