r, and done
nothing else as yet; I had a great deal to say."

However, he rang the bell for tea, and had the table cleared.

CHAPTER XX.

The conversation flagged; Bateman was again busy with his memory; and he
was getting impatient too; time was slipping away, and no blow struck;
moreover, Willis was beginning to gape, and Charles seemed impatient to
be released. "These Romanists put things so plausibly," he said to
himself, "but very unfairly, most unfairly; one ought to be up to their
dodges. I dare say, if the truth were known, Willis has had lessons; he
looks so demure; I dare say he is keeping back a great deal, and playing
upon my ignorance. Who knows? perhaps he's a concealed Jesuit." It was
an awful thought, and suspended the course of his reflections some
seconds. "I wonder what he does really think; it's so difficult to get
at the bottom of them; they won't tell tales, and they are under
obedience; one never knows when to believe them. I suspect he has been
wofully disappointed with Romanism; he looks so thin; but of course he
won't say so; it hurts a man's pride, and he likes to be consistent; he
doesn't like to be laughed at, and so he makes the best of things. I
wish I knew how to treat him; I was wrong in having Reding here; of
course Willis would not be confidential before a third person. He's
like the fox that lost his tail. It was bad tact in me; I see it now;
what a thing it is to have tact! it requires very delicate tact. There
are so many things I wished to say, about Indulgences, about their so
seldom communicating; I think I must ask him about the Mass." So, after
fidgeting a good deal within, while he was ostensibly employed in making
tea, he commenced his last assault.

"Well, we shall have you back again among us by next Christmas, Willis,"
he said; "I can't give you greater law; I am certain of it; it takes
time, but slow and sure. What a joyful time it will be! I can't tell
what keeps you; you are doing nothing; you are flung into a corner; you
are wasting life. _What_ keeps you?"

Willis looked odd; then he simply answered, "Grace."

Bateman was startled, but recovered himself; "Heaven forbid," he said,
"that I should treat these things lightly, or interfere with you unduly.
I know, my dear friend, what a serious fellow you are; but do tell me,
just tell me, how can you justify the Mass, as it is performed abroad;
how can it be called a 'reasonable service,' when all parties co