ensified by every plunge of the steamer and by the swish of waters
very near the deck. There was a touch of melancholy, also, in the steady
thumping of the engines.

She said at last, pleasantly, but in a serious tone:

"I have been reflecting on your discourse. If ironical, it was unkind.
If sincere, it was--not impertinent perhaps, but certainly not justified
by our short acquaintance."

"True: and I beg your pardon. But was it correct?"

"I hope not."

Something in her manner invited a discontinuance of that particular
topic. He drew an attenuated hand across his mouth, changed his
position, as if on the point of saying more; but he held his peace.

Some minutes later, when Miss Marshall's maid approached this silent
couple, her progress, owing to the movement of the deck, consisted of
rapid little runs followed by sudden pauses, during which she hung with
one hand to the rail and with the other clutched her hat. She had come
up to ask if her mistress needed anything. Was she warm enough? Would
she have another wrap? Miss Marshall needed nothing herself, but asked
for news of Mr. Appleton Marshall, and if Father Burke was feeling
better. Louise had seen nothing of Mr. Marshall since dinner, but she
had left Father Burke reclining in the main saloon, not very sick, nor
very well, but lower in his mind. As her maid departed, the lady
expressed sympathy for the suffering uncle. "And poor Father Burke! He
is terribly uncomfortable, I am sure."

"Yes," said Pats. "I saw in his face a look of uncertainty: the wavering
faith that comes from meals with an upward tendency."

Pats thought this want of sympathy was resented.

"He is a most lovable man," she said, "of fine character, and with a
splendid mind. You would like him if you knew him better."

Here was his opportunity; his chance for a rescue. He would snatch her
from the clutches of the Romish Brute. A few stabs in the monster's
vitals might accomplish wonders. So he answered, sadly, in a tone of
brotherly affection:

"I like him now. That is why I regret that he should devote himself to
such a questionable enterprise."

"What enterprise?"

"His Church."

With a forced calmness she replied, "This is the only time I ever heard
the first religion of Christendom called a 'questionable enterprise.'"

"Leo X. spoke of it as a 'profitable fable.' Perhaps that was better."

"Did Leo X. say that of the Catholic Church?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe it."