“I knew Bradcross well enough to feel sure that the old parts of the town, which had been the goal of my former rambles, were not likely to afford any decent lodging for the girls, and as we reached the street, I turned to the right, intending to try our fortune in the newer and more respectable portion. But almost next door to the station there was a lecture-room or mechanics’ institute of some sort, and a placard on the notice-board caught my eye. It was the announcement of a Protestant lecture the following week, the chair to be taken by the Rev. Mr Cotton, Vicar of St Mary Windicotes. I knew the church well and had visited it often--it was the oldest in Bradcross--and this active controversialist promised to be the very man I needed, any way. We retraced our steps, Konstantia and the maid following uncomplainingly where I led, though it was evident they shrank from the narrow squalid streets through which we had to pass to reach the church. I knew where the clerk lived, and requested his wife to show the ladies the building while I called on the Vicar. The good man was at home, but at first I thought I had backed the wrong horse. He grew stiffer and stonier at every word as I explained my position. I learned afterwards that he had been victimised time and time again by persons representing themselves as Catholics desirous of embracing Protestantism, and deprived, naturally, of their former means of livelihood. But I persevered. I was a Catholic, I told him, and had married a Protestant against the wishes of my relations, who were certain to have the marriage declared invalid in order to separate us. Would he recommend us suitable lodgings, and give us his countenance until we could be married afresh according to English law? It makes me laugh yet when I remember how suspicious that good man was, and yet how completely I hoodwinked him. He was clearly relieved when he discovered that I was not in need of money, for I had been careful to furnish myself with several hundred pounds in English gold and notes; but he cross-questioned me most severely in order to ascertain whether there was any other impediment to our marriage than that of religion. Since the real state of affairs never occurred to him, naturally enough, I was able to satisfy him, but he had the prudence to consult his wife before surrendering finally, and she assured him that he was being had once more. However, they concluded to interview Konstantia, and we adjourned to the church, where we found the two poor girls, both of them tired clean out, sitting in one of the pews while the clerk’s wife related in a loud whisper the history of the place--of which, as she told it, they could hardly understand a word. Our story sounded suspicious, no doubt, but the Vicar’s wife forgot all of her suspicions the moment she saw Konstantia. The girl looked so very young and tired that the excellent lady was convinced of her truthfulness on the spot, and she hadn’t talked to her but a few