In his abundant happiness John did not notice that Kitty was scarcely sensible of the importance of the promise she had given.  And in silence he gazed on the landscape, letting it sink into and fix itself for ever in his mind.  Below them lay the great green plain, wonderfully level, and so distinct were its hedges that it looked like a chessboard.  Thornby Place was hidden in vapour, and further away all was lost in darkness that was almost night.

“I am sorry we cannot see the house—­your house,” said John as they descended the chalk road.

“It seems so funny to hear you say that, John.”

“Why?  It will be your house some day.”

“But supposing your Church will not let you marry me, what then....”

“There is no danger of that; a dispensation can always be obtained.  But who knows....  You have never considered the question....  You know nothing of our Church; if you did, you might become a convert.  I wish you would consider the question.  It is so simple; we surrender our own wretched understanding, and are content to accept the Church as wiser than we.  Once man throws off restraint there is no happiness, there is only misery.  One step leads to another; if he would be logical he must go on, and before long, for the descent is very rapid indeed, he finds himself in an abyss of darkness and doubt, a terrible abyss indeed, where nothing exists, and life has lost all meaning.  The Reformation was the thin end of the wedge, it was the first denial of authority, and you see what it has led to—­modern scepticism and modern pessimism.”

“I don’t know what it means, but I heard Mrs Norton say you were a pessimist.”

“I was; but I saw in time where it was leading me, and I crushed it out.  I used to be a Republican too, but I saw what liberty meant, and what were its results, and I gave it up.”

“So you gave up all your ideas for Catholicism....”

John hesitated, he seemed a little startled, but he answered, “I would give up anything for my Church...”

“What!  Me?”

“That is not required.”

“And did it cost you much to give up your ideas?”

John raised his eyes—­it was a look that Balzac would have understood and would have known how to interpret in some admirable pages of human suffering.  “None will ever know how I have suffered,” he said sadly.  “But now I am happy, oh! so happy, and my happiness would be complete if....  Oh! if God would grant you grace to believe....”

“But I do believe.  I believe in our Lord Christ who died to save us.  Is not that enough?”

CHAPTER VI.