Eleanor Read Online Free PDF Page B

deeply.
    ‘It was the cap—the tiara, isn’t it?—that reminded me,’ she said faintly; and then she looked away, as though not wishing to continue the subject.
    ‘She wonders whether I am a Catholic,’ thought Mrs. Burgoyne, amused, ‘and whether she has hurt my feelings.’—Aloud, she said—‘Are you very, very Puritan still in your part of America? Excuse me, but I am dreadfully ignorant about America.’
    ‘We are Methodists in our little town mostly’—said Miss Foster. ‘There is a Presbyterian church—and the best families go there. But my father’s people were always Methodists. My mother was a Universalist.’
    Mrs. Burgoyne frowned with perplexity. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what that is?’ she said.
    ‘They think everybody will be saved,’ said Miss Foster in her shy deep voice. ‘They don’t despair of anybody.’
    And suddenly Mrs. Burgoyne saw a very soft and tender expression pass across the girl’s grave features, like the rising of an inward light.
    ‘A mystic—and a beauty both?’ she thought to herself, a little scornfully this time. In all her politeness to the new-comer so far, she had been like a person stealthily searching for something foreseen and desired. If she had found it, it would have been quite easy to go on being kind to Miss Foster. But she had not found it.
    At that moment the door between the library and the salon was thrown open, and Manisty appeared, cigarette in hand.
    ‘Aunt Pattie—Eleanor—how many tickets do you want for this function next Sunday?’
    ‘Four tribune tickets—we three’—Miss Manisty pointed to the other two ladies—‘and yourself. If we can’t get so many, leave me at home.’
    ‘Of course we shall have tribune tickets—as many as we want,’ said Manisty a little impatiently.—‘Have you explained to Miss Foster?’
    ‘No, but I will. Miss Foster, next Sunday fortnight the Pope celebrates his ‘Capella Papale’—the eighteenth anniversary of his coronation—in St. Peter’s. Rome is very full, and there will be a great demonstration—fifty thousand people or more. Would you like to come?’
    Miss Foster looked up, hesitating. Manisty, who had turned to go back to his room, paused, struck by the momentary silence. He listened with curiosity for the girl’s reply.
    ‘One just goes to see it like a spectacle?’ she said at last, slowly. ‘One needn’t do anything oneself?’
    Miss Manisty stared—and then laughed. ‘Nobody will see what you do in such a crowd—I should think,’ she said. ‘But you know one can’t be rude—to an old old man. If others kneel, I suppose we must kneel. Does it do anyone harm to be blessed by an old man?’
    ‘Oh no!—no!’ cried Miss Foster, flushing deeply. Then, after a moment, she added decidedly—‘Please—I should like to go very much.’
    Manisty grinned unseen, and closed the door behind him.
    Then Miss Foster, after an instant’s restlessness, moved nearer to her hostess.
    ‘I am afraid—you thought I was rude just now? It’s so lovely of you to plan things for me. But—I can’t ever be sure whether it’s right to go into other people’s churches and look at their services—like a show. I should just hate it myself—and I felt it once or twice at Florence. And so—you understand—don’t you?’—she said imploringly.
    Miss Manisty’s small eyes examined her with anxiety. ‘What an extraordinary girl!’ she thought. ‘Is she going to be a great bore?’
    At the same time the girl’s look—so open, sweet and modest—disarmed and attracted her. She shrugged her shoulders with a smile.
    ‘Well, my dear—I don’t know. All I can say is, the Catholics don’t mind! They walk in and out of their own churches all the time mass is going on—the children run about—the sacristans take you round. You certainly needn’t feel it on their account.’
    ‘But then, too, if I am not a Catholic—how far ought one to be taking part—in—in