Richard came up to me and said, “Sophie is waiting to know if you will let her drive you, or if you will walk.”

I had not yet been obliged to speak to Richard since I had heard what people said about us, and I felt uncomfortable.

“Oh, let me drive if there is room,” I said, without looking up.  Sophie sat in her little carriage waiting for me.  Richard put me in beside her, and then joined the others, while we drove away.  Benny, in his white Sunday clothes, sat at our feet.

“I think it is so much better for you to drive,” said Mrs. Hollenbeck, “for the day is warm, and I did not think you looked at all well this morning.”

“No,” I said faintly.  And she was so kind, I longed to tell her everything.  It is frightful at seventeen to have no one to tell your troubles to.

At the gate Benny was just grumbling about getting out to open it, when Mr. Langenau appeared, and held it open for us.  He was dressed in a flannel suit which he wore for walking.  After he closed the gate, he came up beside the carriage, as Mrs. Hollenbeck very kindly invited him to do, by driving slowly.

“Are you coming with us to church, Mr. Langenau?” asked Benny.

“To church?  No, Benny.  I am afraid they would not let me in.”

“Why, yes, they would, if you had your good clothes on,” said Benny.

Mr. Langenau laughed, a little bitterly, and said he doubted, even then.  “I am afraid I haven’t got my good conscience on either, Benny.”

“But the minister would never know,” said Benny.

“That’s very true; the ministers here don’t know much about peoples’ consciences, I should think.”

“Do ministers in any other places know any more?” asked Benny with interest.

“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.