"Well," said he, pondering, while the parentheses became marked
again,--"I should think, from what you tell me, that you would
find him a useful neighbour. Let me see . . . You got fifty
lire out of him, for a word; and the children went off,
blessing you as their benefactress. I should think that you
would find him a valuable neighbour--and that he, on his side,
might find you an expensive one."
Beatrice, with a gesture, implored him to be serious.
"Ah, please don't tease about this," she said. "I want to know
what you think of his conversion?"
"The conversion of a heretic is always 'a consummation devoutly
to be desired,' as well, you may settle it between Shakespeare
and Byron, to suit yourself. And there are none so devoutly
desirous of such consummations as you Catholics of England
--especially you women. It is said that a Catholic Englishwoman
once tried to convert the Pope."
"Well, there have been popes whom it would n't have hurt,"
commented Beatrice. "And as for Mr. Marchdale," she continued,
"he has shown 'dispositions.' He admitted that he could see no
reason why it should not have been Our Blessed Lady who sent us
to the children's aid. Surely, from a Protestant, that is an
extraordinary admission?"
"Yes," said the Cardinal. "And if he meant it, one may
conclude that he has a philosophic mind."
"If he meant it?" Beatrice cried. "Why should he not have
meant it? Why should he have said it if he did not mean it?"
"Oh, don't ask me," protested the Cardinal. "There is a thing
the French call politesse. I can conceive a young man
professing to agree with a lady for the sake of what the French
might call her beaux yeux."
"I give you my word," said Beatrice, "that my beaux yeux had
nothing to do with the case. He said it in the most absolute
good faith. He said he believed that in a universe like ours
nothing was impossible--that there were more things in heaven
and earth than people generally dreamed of--that he could see
no reason why the Blessed Virgin should not have sent us across
the children's path. Oh, he meant it. I am perfectly sure he
meant it."
The Cardinal smiled--at her eagerness, perhaps.
"Well, then," he repeated, "we must conclude that he has a
philosophic mind."
"But what is one to do?" asked she. "Surely one ought to do
something? One ought to follow such an admission up? When a
man is so far on the way to the light, it is surely one's duty
to lead him farther?"