"It is no use, it is no use," he burst out, and his voice was broken with emotion, "you cannot turn me like that. Oh, what have you done with my Isabel?" He put out his hand and seized her arm. "Give her back to me, Aunt Margaret; give her back to me." He dropped into his seat and hid his face on his arm; and there was a sob or two. "Sit up and be a man, Hubert," broke in Mistress Margaret's voice, clear and cool. He looked up in amazement with wet indignant eyes. She was looking at him, smiling tenderly. "And now, for the second time, give me half a glass of wine, dear boy." He poured it out, bewildered at her self-control. "For a man that has been round the world," she said, "you are but a foolish child." "What do you mean?" "Have you never thought of a way of yet winning Isabel," she asked. "What do you mean?" he repeated. "Why, come back to the Church, dear lad; and make your mother and me happy again, and marry Isabel, and save your own soul." "Aunt Margaret," he cried, "it is impossible. I have truly lost my faith in the Catholic religion; and--and--you would not have me a hypocrite." "Ah! ah!" said the nun, "you cannot tell yet. Please God it may come back. Oh! dear boy, in your heart you know it is true." "Before God, in my heart I know that it is not true." "No, no, no," she said; but the light died out of her eyes, and she stretched a tremulous hand. "Yes, Aunt Margaret, it is so. For years and years I have been doubting; but I kept on just because it seemed to me the best religion; and--and I would not be driven out of it by her Grace's laws against my will, like a dog stoned from his kennel." "But you are only a lad still," she said piteously. He laughed a little. "But I have had the gift of reason and discretion nearly twenty years, a priest would tell me. Besides, Aunt Margaret, I could not be such a--a cur--as to come back without believing. I could never look Isabel in the eyes again." "Well, well," said the old lady, "let us wait and see. Do you intend to be here now for a while?" "Not while Isabel is like this," he said. "I could not. I must go away for a while, and then come back and ask her again." "When will she decide?" "She told me by next Easter," said Hubert. "Oh, Aunt Margaret, pray for us both." The light began to glimmer again in her eyes. "There, dear boy," she said, "you see you believe in prayer still." "But, aunt," said Hubert, "why should I not? Protestants pray." "Well, well," said the old nun again. "Now you must come to your mother; and--and be good to her." CHAPTER V THE COMING OF THE JESUITS