“It might have been perhaps as well,” said Lothair; “but I also feel a delicacy on these matters.” “There ought to be none on such matters,” continued Miss Arundel, “when every thing is at stake.” “I do not see that I could have taken any other course than I have done,” said.Lothair. “It can hardly be wrong. The bishop’s church views are sound.” “Sound!” said Miss Arundel; “moonshine instead of sunshine.” “Moonshine would rather suit a midnight than a morning celebration,” said Lothair; “would it not?” “A fair repartee, but we are dealing with a question that cannot be settled by jests. See,” she said with great seriousness, putting down her cup and taking again his offered arm, “you think you are only complying with a form befitting your position and the occasion. You deceive yourself. You are hampering your future freedom by this step, and they know it. That is why it was planned. It was not necessary; nothing can be necessary so pregnant with evil. You might have made, you might yet make, a thousand excuses. It is a rite which hardly suits the levity of the hour, even with their feelings; but, with your view of its real character, it is sacrilege. What is occurring tonight might furnish you with scruples?” And she looked up in his face. “I think you take an exaggerated view of what I contemplate,” said Lothair. “Even with your convictions, it may be an imperfect rite; but it never can be an injurious one.” “There can be no compromise on such matters,” said Miss Arundel. “The Church knows nothing of imperfect rites. They are all perfect, because they are all divine; any deviation from them is heresy, and fatal. My convictions on this subject are your convictions; act up to them.” “I am sure, if thinking of these matters would guide a man right—” said Lothair, with a sigh, and he stopped. “Human thought will never guide you; and very justly, when you have for a guide Divine truth. You are now your own master; go at once to its fountain-head; go to Rome, and then all your perplexities will vanish, and forever.” “I do not see much prospect of my going to Rome,” said Lothair, “at least at present.” “Well,” said Miss Arundel, “in a few weeks I hope to be there; and if so, I hope never to quit it.” “Do not say that; the future is always unknown.” “Not yours,” said Miss Arundel. “Whatever you think, you will go to Rome. Mark my words. I summon you to meet me at Rome.”