"Why, yes, Benny, in a good many countries where I've been, they do." "You are a Catholic, Mr. Langenau?" asked Mrs. Hollenbeck. "I once was; I have no longer any right to say it is my faith," he answered slowly. "What is it to be a Catholic?" inquired Benny, gazing at his tutor's face with wonder. "To be a Catholic, is to be in a safe prison; to have been a Catholic, is to be alone on a sea big and black with billows, Benny." "I think I'd like the prison best," said Benny, who was very much afraid of the water. "Ah, but if you couldn't get back to it, my boy." "Well, I think I'd try to get to land somewhere," Benny answered, stoutly. Mr. Langenau laughed, but rather gloomily, and we went on for a few moments in silence. The road was bordered with trees, and there was a beautiful shade. The horse was very glad to be permitted to go slow, not being of an ambitious nature. All this time I had been leaning back, holding my parasol very close over my face. Mr. Langenau happened to be on the side by me: once when the carriage had leaned suddenly, he had put his hand upon it, and had touched, without intending it, my arm. "I beg your pardon," he had said, and that was all he had said to me; and I had felt very grateful that Benny had been so inclined to talk. I trusted that nobody would speak to me, for my voice would never be steady and even again, I was sure, when he was by to listen to it. Now, however, he spoke to me: commonplace words, the same almost that every one in the house had addressed to me that morning, but how differently they sounded. "I am sorry that you are not well to-day, Miss d'Estrée." Mrs. Hollenbeck at this moment began to find some fault with Benny's gloves, and leaning down, talked very obligingly and earnestly with him, while she fastened the gloves upon his hands. Mr. Langenau took the occasion, as it was intended he should take it, and said rather low, "You will not refuse to see me a few moments this evening, that I may explain something to you?" I think he was disappointed that I did not answer him, only turned away my head. But I don't know in truth what other answer he had any right to ask. He did not attempt to speak again, but as we turned into the village, said, "Good-morning, I must leave you. Good-bye, Benny, since I have neither clothes nor conscience fit for church." Sophie laughed, and said, at least she hoped he would be home for dinner. He did not promise, but raising his hat struck off into a little path by the roadside, that led up into the woods. "What a pity," said Mrs. Hollenbeck musingly, "that a man of such fine intellect should have such vague religious faith."