The Black Robe | Page 4

money. Besides, I dislike all
traveling--and especially traveling alone. You are an idle man. If you
were a good friend, you would offer to go with me." He added, with the
delicacy which was one of the redeeming points in his wayward
character. "Of course as my guest."
I had known him long enough not to take offense at his reminding me,
in this considerate way, that I was a poor man. The proposed change of
scene tempted me. What did I care for the Channel passage? Besides,
there was the irresistible attraction of getting away from home. The end
of it was that I accepted Romayne's invitation.
II.
SHORTLY after noon, on the next day, we were established at
Boulogne--near Lady Berrick, but not at her hotel. "If we live in the
same house," Romayne reminded me, "we shall be bored by the
companion and the doctor. Meetings on the stairs, you know, and
exchanging bows and small talk." He hated those trivial
conventionalities of society, in which, other people delight. When
somebody once asked him in what company he felt most at ease? he
made a shocking answer--he said, "In the company of dogs."
I waited for him on the pier while he went to see her ladyship. He
joined me again with his bitterest smile. "What did I tell you? She is
not well enough to see me to-day. The doctor looks grave, and the
companion puts her handkerchief to her eyes. We may be kept in this
place for weeks to come."
The afternoon proved to be rainy. Our early dinner was a bad one. This
last circumstance tried his temper sorely. He was no gourmand; the
question of cookery was (with him) purely a matter of digestion. Those

late hours of study, and that abuse of tea to which I have already
alluded, had sadly injured his stomach. The doctors warned him of
serious consequences to his nervous system, unless he altered his habits.
He had little faith in medical science, and he greatly overrated the
restorative capacity of his constitution. So far as I know, he had always
neglected the doctors' advice.
The weather cleared toward evening, and we went out for a walk. We
passed a church--a Roman Catholic church, of course--the doors of
which were still open. Some poor women were kneeling at their prayers
in the dim light. "Wait a minute," said Romayne. "I am in a vile temper.
Let me try to put myself into a better frame of mind."
I followed him into the church. He knelt down in a dark corner by
himself. I confess I was surprised. He had been baptized in the Church
of England; but, so far as outward practice was concerned, he belonged
to no religious community. I had often heard him speak with sincere
reverence and admiration of the spirit of Christianity--but he never, to
my knowledge, attended any place of public worship. When we met
again outside the church, I asked if he had been converted to the
Roman Catholic faith.
"No," he said. "I hate the inveterate striving of that priesthood after
social influence and political power as cordially as the fiercest
Protestant living. But let us not forget that the Church of Rome has
great merits to set against great faults. Its system is administered with
an admirable knowledge of the higher needs of human nature. Take as
one example what you have just seen. The solemn tranquillity of that
church, the poor people praying near me, the few words of prayer by
which I silently united myself to my fellow-creatures, have calmed me
and done me good. In our country I should have found the church
closed, out of service hours." He took my arm and abruptly changed the
subject. "How will you occupy yourself," he asked, "if my aunt
receives me to-morrow?"
I assured him that I should easily find ways and means of getting
through the time. The next morning a message came from Lady Berrick,
to say that she would see her nephew after breakfast. Left by myself, I
walked toward the pier, and met with a man who asked me to hire his
boat. He had lines and bait, at my service. Most unfortunately, as the
event proved, I decided on occupying an hour or two by sea fishing.

The wind shifted while we were out, and before we could get back to
the harbor, the tide had turned against us. It was six o'clock when I
arrived at the hotel. A little open carriage was waiting at the door. I
found Romayne impatiently expecting me, and no signs of dinner on
the table. He informed me that he had accepted an invitation, in which I
was included, and promised to explain everything in the carriage.
Our