He made light of that, he should soon have plenty; Mr. Charlton had as good as told him he was to have Bolton Hall and Grange: "Six hundred acres, Kate, besides the park and paddocks." In his warmth he forgot that Catherine was to have been Mr. Charlton's heir. Catherine was too high-minded to bear Griffith any grudge; but she colored a little, and said she was averse to come to him a penniless bride. "Why, what matters it which of us has the dross, so that there is enough for both?" said Griffith, with an air of astonishment. Catherine smiled approbation, and tacitly yielded that point. But then she objected the difference in their faith. "Oh, honest folk get to heaven by different roads," said Griffith, carelessly. "I have been taught otherwise," replied Catherine, gravely. "Then give me your hand and I'll give you my soul," said Griffith Gaunt, impetuously. "I'll go to heaven your way, if you can't go mine. Anything sooner than be parted in this world, or the next." She looked at him in silence; and it was in a faint half apologetic tone she objected that "all her kinsfolk were set against it." "It is not their business; it is ours," was the prompt reply. "Well, then," said Catherine, sadly, "I suppose I must tell you the true reason; I feel I should not make you happy; I do not love you quite as you want to be loved, as you deserve to be loved. You need not look so; nothing in flesh and blood is your rival. But my heart it bleeds for the church I think of her ancient glory in this kingdom, and, when I see her present condition, I long to devote myself to her service. I am very fit to be an abbess or a nun; most unfit to be a wife. No, no; I must not, ought not, dare not, many a Protestant. Take the advice of one who esteems you dearly; leave me--fly from me --forget me--do everything but hate me. Nay, do not hate me: you little know the struggle in my mind. Farewell; the saints, whom you scorn, watch over and protect you: farewell." And with this she sighed, and struck her spur into the grey, and he darted off at a gallop. Griffith, little able to cope with such a character as this, sat petrified, and would have been rooted to the spot if he had happened to be on foot. But his mare set off after her companion, and a chase of a novel kind commenced. Catherine's horse was fresher than Griffith's mare, and the latter, not being urged by her petrified master, lost ground. But, when she drew near to her father's gate, Catherine relaxed her speed, and Griffith rejoined her. She had already half relented, and only wanted a warm and resolute wooer to bring her round. But Griffith was too sore, and too little versed in woman. Full of suspicion and bitterness he paced gloomy and silent by her side, till they reached the great avenue that led to her father's house. And, while he rides alongside the capricious creature in sulky silence, I may as well reveal a certain foible in his own character.