d position can now be
alleged as the reason for her change of religion."
"And has she done this?" asked Kate, with a degree of anxiety; for she
well knew on what feeble grounds Lady Hester's convictions were usually
built..
"Not publicly; she waits for her arrival at Rome, to make her confession
at the shrine of St. John of Lateran. Her doubts, however, have all been
solved,--her reconciliation is perfect."
"Is she happy? Has she found peace of mind at last?" asked Kate,
timidly.
"On this point I can speak with confidence," said D'Esmonde, warmly;
and at once entered into a description of the pleasurable impulse a new
train of thoughts and impressions had given to the exhausted energies
of a "fine lady's" life. It was so far true, indeed, that for some
days back she had never known a moment of _ennui_. Surrounded by sacred
emblems and a hundred devices of religious association, she appeared to
herself as if acting a little poem of life, wherein a mass of amiable
qualities, of which she knew nothing before, were all developing
themselves before her. And what between meritorious charities, saintly
intercessions, visits to shrines, and decorations of altars, she had
not an instant unoccupied; it was one unceasing round of employment; and
with prayers, bouquets, lamps, confessions, candles, and penances, the
day was even too short for its duties.
The little villa of La Rocca was now a holy edifice. The drawing-room
had become an oratory; a hollow-cheeked "Seminariste," from Como, had
taken the place of the Maestro di Casa. The pages wore a robe like
acolytes, and even Albert Jekyl began to fear that a costume was in
preparation for himself, from certain measurements that he had observed
taken with regard to his figure.
"My time is up," said Frank, hastily, as he arose to go away.
"You are not about to leave me, Frank?" said Kate.
"Yes, I must; my leave was only till four o'clock, as the
Field-Marshal's note might have shown you; but I believe you threw it
into the fire before you finished it."
"Did I, really? I remember nothing of that. But, stay, and I will write
to him. I 'll say that I have detained you."
"But the service, Kate dearest! My sergeant--my over-lieutenant--my
captain--what will they say? I may have to pass three days in irons for
the disobedience."
"Modern chivalry has a dash of the treadmill through it," said
D'Esmonde, sarcastically; and the boy's cheek flushed as he heard it.
The
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