“I want you faithfully to promise me,” she said, “that you will in no way--in no way at all--use your influence over Vennie to draw her from her English faith.” The old lady’s voice became quite husky in her emotion. “It would be dreadful to me to think,--I could not bear to think”--she went on, “that you should in the smallest degree use your great powers of mind to disturb the child’s present attitude. If she is not happy, it is not--Oh, I assure you, it is not--in any sense due to her being dissatisfied with her religion. It must be something quite different. What it is, I cannot guess; but it must be something quite different from _that_. Well, dear friend,” and she did now, quite definitely, lay her hand on his arm, “will you promise this for me? You will? I know you will.” Francis Taxater rose from his seat and stood over her very gravely, leaning upon his cane. “You have done well to tell me this, Mrs. Seldom,” he said. “Most certainly I shall make no attempt to influence Vennie. It would be indeed contrary to all that I regard as wise and suitable in the relations between us. I never convert people. I believe you will find that very few of those who are born Catholics ever interfere in that way. It is the impetuosity of new-comers into the church that gives us this bad name. They often carry into their new faith the turbulent theological zeal which distinguished them in their old one. I, at any rate, am not like that. I leave people alone. I prefer to watch them develop on their own lines. The last thing I should wish to do would be to meddle with Vennie’s religious taste. It would be a blunder as well as an impertinence. Vennie would be the first to resist any such proceeding. It would destroy her respect for me. It might even destroy her affection for me. It certainly would not move her. Indeed, dear lady, if I wished to plant the child’s soul irrevocably in the soil prepared by our good vicar I could not do anything more effective than try to persuade her of its deficiencies. No, no! You may rely upon me to stand completely aside in this matter. If Vennie _were_ led to join us--which for your sake, dear Mrs. Seldom, I hope will never happen,--you may accept my word of honour it will be from her own spontaneous impulse. I shall make not the least movement in the direction you fear. _That_ I can devoutly promise.” He turned away his head and regarded with calm, placid detachment the rich, shadowy orchard and the golden buttercups. The contours of his profile were so noble, and the pose of his head so majestic, that the agitated mother was soothed and awed into complete confidence. “Thank God!” she exclaimed. “_That_ fear, at any rate, has passed. I shall be grateful to you forever, dear friend, for what you have just now said. It is a direct answer to my prayers.”