ng. There was the grey old house before her,
and the terrace, and the cloister-wing to the left, and the hot sunshine
lay on it all, and drew out scents and colours from the flower-beds, and
joy from the insects that danced in the trembling air; and it all meant
nothing to her; like a picture when the page is turned over it. Five
minutes ago she was regarding her life and seeing how the Grace of God
was slowly sorting out its elements from chaos to order--the road was
unwinding itself before her eyes as she trod on it day by day--now a hand
had swept all back into disorder, and the path was hidden by the ruins.

Then gradually one thought detached itself, and burned before her, vivid
and startling; and in all its terrible reality slipped between her and
the visible world on which she was staring. It was this: to embrace the
Catholic Faith meant the renouncing of Hubert. As a Protestant she might
conceivably have married a Catholic; as a Catholic it was inconceivable
that she should marry an apostate.

Then she read the letter through again carefully and slowly; and was
astonished at the unreality of Hubert's words about Romish superstition
and gospel simplicity. She tried hard to silence her thoughts; but two
reasons for Hubert's change of religion rose up and insisted on making
themselves felt; it was that he might be more in unity with the
buccaneers whom he admired; second, that there might be no obstacle to
their marriage. And what then, she asked, was the quality of the heart he
had given her?

Then, in a flash of intuition, she perceived that a struggle lay before
her, compared with which all her previous spiritual conflicts were as
child's play; and that there was no avoiding it. The vision passed, and
she rose and went indoors to find the desolate mother whose boy had lost
the Faith.

A month or two of misery went by. For Lady Maxwell they passed with
recurring gusts of heart-broken sorrow and of agonies of prayer for her
apostate son. Mistress Margaret was at the Hall all day, soothing,
encouraging, even distracting her sister by all the means in her power.
The mother wrote one passionate wail to her son, appealing to all that
she thought he held dear, even yet to return to the Faith for which his
father had suffered and in which he had died; but a short answer only
returned, saying it was impossible to make his defence in a letter, and
expressing pious hopes that she, too, one day would be as he was; the
s