ion that her husband had
deliberately left her alone with Penrose, to be persuaded or deluded
into giving her sanction to aid the influence of the priest. "They shall
find they are mistaken," she thought to herself.

"Have I interrupted an interesting conversation?" she inquired abruptly.
"When I asked you to come out, were you talking to my husband about his
historical work?"

"No, Mrs. Romayne; we were not speaking at that time of the book."

"May I ask an odd question, Mr. Penrose?"

"Certainly!"

"Are you a very zealous Catholic?"

"Pardon me. I am a priest. Surely my profession speaks for me?"

"I hope you are not trying to convert my husband?"

Penrose stopped and looked at her attentively.

"Are you strongly opposed to your husband's conversion?" he asked.

"As strongly," she answered, "as a woman can be."

"By religious conviction, Mrs. Romayne?"

"No. By experience."

Penrose started. "Is it indiscreet," he said gently, "to inquire what
your experience may have been?"

"I will tell you what my experience has been," Stella replied. "I am
ignorant of theological subtleties, and questions of doctrine are quite
beyond me. But this I do know. A well-meaning and zealous Catholic
shortened my father's life, and separated me from an only sister whom
I dearly loved. I see I shock you--and I daresay you think I am
exaggerating?"

"I hear what you say, Mrs. Romayne, with very great pain--I don't
presume to form any opinion thus far."

"My sad story can be told in a few words," Stella proceeded. "When
my elder sister was still a young girl, an aunt of ours (my mother's
sister) came to stay with us. She had married abroad, and she was, as
I have said, a zealous Catholic. Unknown to the rest of us, she held
conversations on religion with my sister--worked on the enthusiasm which
was part of the girl's nature--and accomplished her conversion. Other
influences, of which I know nothing, were afterward brought to bear on
my sister. She declared her intention of entering a convent. As she
was under age, my father had only to interpose his authority to prevent
this. She was his favorite child. He had no heart to restrain her by
force--he could only try all that the kindest and best of fathers could
do to persuade her to remain at home. Even after the years that have
passed, I cannot trust myself to speak of it composedly. She persisted;
she was as hard as stone. My aunt, when she was entreated to interfere,
ca