"
"If he does, we must give him short answers, and say that the matter is
too deep for us," observed Arthur. "We may perhaps puzzle him slightly,
and at the worst make him suppose that we are very ill informed on
religious matters; but we must be cautious what we say."
Uncle Paul had from the first been endeavouring in vain to get ahead of
the friar without appearing rude, but he did not succeed till the latter
had got out of him all the information he wanted. The friar then
allowed his mule to drop in between us, and at once addressed Arthur in
a friendly way--inquiring of him how often he had attended mass since
his arrival, and who was his father confessor. Arthur replied that, as
he spent every Sunday in the country, and was occupied the whole of each
weekday in business, he had to confess that he had not paid due
attention to such matters.
"And you," said the friar to me,--"are you equally careless?"
"I hope that I am not careless," I answered; "but we Englishmen are not
brought up exactly like Spaniards, and consequently you may not
understand us clearly."
"All true Catholics are the same," remarked the friar. "You may expect
a visit before long from the Superior of my Order to inquire into your
religious condition, which appears to me unsatisfactory. Good-day,
young gentlemen; I cannot give you my blessing till I know more about
you."
Bowing to the friar, who, having gained all the information he required,
now reined in his mule, we rode on to rejoin Uncle Paul. Arthur
laughed. "I think we have somewhat puzzled the old fellow," he
observed.
"Depend upon it, though, that we shall before long receive the visit he
promises from his Superior, who may manage by some means or other to
find out the truth," I remarked.
Though Uncle Paul made light of the matter, too, I saw that he was not
altogether comfortable about it.
As soon as we arrived, I told my father and mother and Marian, that they
might be prepared.
"We must not be entrapped by him," said my father; "and I will show my
zeal by offering to assist in building a chapel in the neighbourhood."
"I will not deny the truth," said my mother, with tears in her eyes.
"Nor will I," exclaimed Marian.
My father looked annoyed. "You must try then and keep out of the way of
the man," he said. "I will manage him, should he come."
I afterwards had a conversation with my young sister.
"It will be cowardly and disgraceful to deny our fa
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