Come Rack! Come Rope! | Page 6

and
he just waited to hear from Marjorie how this must be done.
She turned to him again at last. Twice her lips opened to speak, and
twice she closed them again. Robin continued to stroke her hand and
wait for judgment. The third time she spoke.
"I think you must go away," she said, "for Easter. Tell your father that
you cannot change your religion simply because he tells you so. I do
not see what else is to be done. He will think, perhaps, that if you have
a little time to think you will come over to him. Well, that is not so, but
it may make it easier for him to believe it for a while.... You must go
somewhere where there is a priest.... Where can you go?"
Robin considered.
"I could go to Dethick," he said.
"That is not far enough away, I think."
"I could come here," he suggested artfully.
A smile lit in her eyes, shone in her mouth, and passed again into
seriousness.
"That is scarcely a mile further," she said. "We must think.... Will he be

very angry, Robin?"
Robin smiled grimly.
"I have never withstood him in a great affair," he said. "He is angry
enough over little things."
"Poor Robin!"
"Oh! he is not unjust to me. He is a good father to me."
"That makes it all the sadder," she said.
"And there is no other way?" he asked presently.
She glanced at him.
"Unless you would withstand him to the face. Would you do that,
Robin?"
"I will do anything you tell me," he said simply.
"You darling!... Well, Robin, listen to me. It is very plain that sooner or
later you will have to withstand him. You cannot go away every time
there is communion at Matstead, or, indeed, every Sunday. Your father
would have to pay the fines for you, I have no doubt, unless you went
away altogether. But I think you had better go away for this time. He
will almost expect it, I think. At first he will think that you will yield to
him; and then, little by little (unless God's grace brings himself back to
the Faith), he will learn to understand that you will not. But it will be
easier for him that way; and he will have time to think what to do with
you, too.... Robin, what would you do if you went away?"
Robin considered again.
"I can read and write," he said. "I am a Latinist: I can train falcons and
hounds and break horses. I do not know if there is anything else that I
can do."

"You darling!" she said again.
* * * * *
These two, as will have been seen, were as simple as children, and as
serious. Children are not gay and light-hearted, except now and then
(just as men and women are not serious except now and then). They are
grave and considering: all that they lack is experience. These two, then,
were real children; they were grave and serious because a great thing
had disclosed itself to them in which two or three large principles were
present, and no more. There was that love of one another, whose
consummation seemed imperilled, for how could these two ever wed if
Robin were to quarrel with his father? There was the Religion which
was in their bones and blood--the Religion for which already they had
suffered and their fathers before them. There was the honour and
loyalty which this new and more personal suffering demanded now
louder than ever; and in Marjorie at least, as will be seen more plainly
later, there was a strong love of Jesus Christ and His Mother, whom she
knew, from her hidden crucifix and her beads, and her Jesus
Psalter--which she used every day--as well as in her own soul--to be
wandering together once more among the hills of Derbyshire,
sheltering, at peril of Their lives, in stables and barns and little secret
chambers, because there was no room for Them in Their own places. It
was this last consideration, as Robin had begun to guess, that stood
strongest in the girl; it was this, too, as again he had begun to guess,
that made her all that she was to him, that gave her that strange serious
air of innocency and sweetness, and drew from him a love that was
nine-tenths reverence and adoration. (He always kissed her hands first,
it will be remembered, before her lips.)
So then they sat and considered and talked. They did not speak much of
her Grace, nor of her Grace's religion, nor of her counsellors and affairs
of state: these things were but toys and vanities compared with matters
of love and faith; neither did they