tful brother. "Can
abstract right in an institution, if that is what you aim at, be worth
the sacrifice of your existence--your power of influencing your
fellow-creatures?" This Mr Wentworth said, being specially moved by
the circumstances in which he found himself--for, under any other
conditions, such sentiments would have produced the warmest opposition
in his Anglican bosom. But he was so far sympathetic that he could be
tolerant to his brother who had gone to Rome.

"I know what you mean," said Gerald; "it is the prevailing theory in
England that all human institutions are imperfect. My dear Frank, I
want a Church which is not a human institution. In England it seems to
be the rule of faith that every man may believe as he pleases. There
is no authority either to decide or to punish. If you can foresee what
that may lead us to, I cannot. I take refuge in the true Church, where
alone there is certainty--where," said the convert, with a heightened
colour and a long-drawn breath, "there is authority clear and
decisive. In England you believe what you will, and the result will
be one that I at least fear to contemplate; in Rome we believe
what--we must," said Gerald. He said the words slowly, bowing his head
more than once with determined submission, as if bending under the
yoke. "Frank, it is salvation!" said the new Catholic, with the
emphasis of a despairing hope. And for the first time Frank Wentworth
perceived what it was which had driven his brother to Rome.

"I understand you now," said the Perpetual Curate; "it is because
there is no room for our conflicting doctrines and latitude of belief.
Instead of a Church happily so far imperfect, that a man can put his
life to the best account in it, without absolutely delivering up his
intellect to a set of doctrines, you seek a perfect Church, in which,
for a symmetrical system of doctrine, you lose the use of your
existence!" Mr Wentworth uttered this opinion with all the more
vehemence, that it was in direct opposition to his own habitual ideas;
but even his veneration for his "Mother" yielded for the moment to his
strong sense of his brother's mistake.

"It is a hard thing to say," said Gerald, "but it is true. If you but
knew the consolation, after years of struggling among the problems of
faith, to find one's self at last upon a rock of authority, of
certainty--one holds in one's hand at last the interpretation of the
enigma," said Gerald. He looked up to the s