Part 12 (1/2)

”Well, I think he might profitably have examined into your state of mind a little before he did so,” said Reding; ”_you_ are not the person to become a Catholic, Willis.”

”What do you mean?”

”Because,” answered Reding, ”you are more of a Dissenter than a Catholic. I beg your pardon,” he added, seeing Willis look up sharply, ”let me be frank with you, pray do. You were attached to the Church of Rome, not as a child to a mother, but in a wayward roving way, as a matter of fancy or liking, or (excuse me) as a greedy boy to something nice; and you pursued your object by disobeying the authorities set over you.”

It was as much as Willis could bear; he said, he thought he recollected a text about ”obeying G.o.d _rather_ than men.”

”I _see_ you have disobeyed men,” retorted Charles; ”I _trust_ you have been obeying G.o.d.”

Willis thought him rude, and would not speak.

Mr. Morley began: ”If you knew the circ.u.mstances better,” he said, ”you would doubtless judge differently. I consider Mr. Willis to be just the very person on whom it was inc.u.mbent to join the Church, and who will make an excellent Catholic. You must blame, not the venerable priest who received him, but me. The good man saw his devotion, his tears, his humility, his earnest desire; but the state of his mind he learned through me, who speak French better than Mr. Willis. However, he had quite enough conversation with him in French and Latin. He could not reject a postulant for salvation; it was impossible. Had you been he, you would have done the same.”

”Well, sir, perhaps I have been unjust to him and you,” said Charles; ”however, I cannot augur well of this.”

”You are judging, sir,” answered Mr. Morley, ”let me say it, of things you do not know. You do not know what the Catholic religion is, you do not know what its grace is, or the gift of faith.”

The speaker was a layman; he spoke with earnestness the more intense, because quiet. Charles felt himself reproved by his manner; his good taste suggested to him that he had been too vehement in the presence of a stranger; yet he did not feel the less confidence in his cause. He paused before he answered; then he said briefly, that he was aware that he did not know the Roman Catholic religion, but he knew Mr. Willis. He could not help giving his opinion that good would not come of it.

”_I_ have ever been a Catholic,” said Mr. Morley; ”so far I cannot judge of members of the Church of England; but this I know, that the Catholic Church is the only true Church. I may be wrong in many things; I cannot be wrong in this. This too I know, that the Catholic faith is one, and that no other Church has faith. The Church of England has no faith. You, my dear sir, have not faith.”

This was a home-thrust; the controversies of Oxford pa.s.sed before Reding's mind; but he instantly recovered himself. ”You cannot expect,”

said he, smiling, ”that I, almost a boy, should be able to argue with yourself, or to defend my Church or to explain her faith. I am content to hold that faith, to hold what she holds, without professing to be a divine. This is the doctrine which I have been taught at Oxford. I am under teaching there, I am not yet taught. Excuse me, then, if I decline an argument with you. With Mr. Willis, it is natural that I should argue; we are equals, and understand each other; but I am no theologian.”

Here Willis cried out, ”O my dear Reding, what I say is, 'Come and see.'

Don't stand at the door arguing; but enter the great home of the soul, enter and adore.”

”But,” said Reding, ”surely G.o.d wills us to be guided by reason; I don't mean that reason is everything, but it is at least something. Surely we ought not to act without it, against it.”

”But is not doubt a dreadful state?” said Willis; ”a most perilous state? No state is safe but that of faith. Can it be safe to be without faith? Now _have_ you faith in your Church? I know you well enough to know you have not; where, then, are you?”

”Willis, you have misunderstood me most extraordinarily,” said Charles: ”ten thousand thoughts pa.s.s through the mind, and if it is safe to note down and bring against a man his stray words, I suppose there's nothing he mayn't be accused of holding. You must be alluding to some half-sentence or other of mine, which I have forgotten, and which was no real sample of my sentiments. Do you mean I have no wors.h.i.+p? and does not wors.h.i.+p presuppose faith? I have much to learn, I am conscious; but I wish to learn it from the Church under whose shadow my lot is cast, and with whom I am content.”

”He confesses,” said Willis, ”that he has no faith; he confesses that he is in doubt. My dear Reding, can you sincerely plead that you are in invincible ignorance after what has pa.s.sed between us? now, suppose for an instant that Catholicism is true, is it not certain that you now have an opportunity of embracing it? and if you do not, are you in a state to die in?”

Reding was perplexed how to answer; that is, he could not with the necessary quickness a.n.a.lyze and put into words the answer which his reason suggested to Willis's rapid interrogatories. Mr. Morley had kept silence, lest Charles should have two upon him at once; but when Willis paused, and Charles did not reply, he interposed. He said that all the calls in Scripture were obeyed with prompt.i.tude by those who were called; and that our Lord would not suffer one man even to go and bury his father. Reding answered, that in those cases the voice of Christ was actually heard; He was on earth, in bodily presence; now, however, the very question was, _which_ was the voice of Christ; and whether the Church of Rome did or did not speak with the voice of Christ;--that surely we ought to act prudently; that Christ could not wish us to act otherwise; that, for himself, he had no doubt that he was in the place where Providence wished him to be; but, even if he had any doubts whether Christ was calling him elsewhere (which he had not), but if he had, he should certainly think that Christ called him in the way and method of careful examination,--that prudence was the divinely appointed means of coming at the truth.

”Prudence!” cried Willis, ”such prudence as St. Thomas's, I suppose, when he determined to see before believing.”

Charles hesitated to answer.

”I see it,” continued Willis; and, starting up, he seized his arm; ”come, my dear fellow, come with me directly; let us go to the good priest who lives two streets off. You shall be received this very day.

On with your hat.” And, before Charles could show any resistance, he was half out of the room.

He could not help laughing, in spite of his vexation; he disengaged his arm, and deliberately sat down. ”Not so fast,” he said; ”we are not quite this sort of person.”

Willis looked awkward for a moment; then he said, ”Well, at least you must go into a retreat; you must go forthwith. Morley, do you know when Mr. de Mowbray or Father Agostino gives his next retreat? Reding, it is just what you want, just what all Oxford men want; I think you will not refuse me.”

Charles looked up in his face, and smiled. ”It is not my line,” he said at length. ”I am on my way to Oxford. I must go. I came here to be of use to you; I can be of none, so I must go. Would I _could_ be of service; but it is hopeless. Oh, it makes my heart ache!” And he went on brus.h.i.+ng his hat with his glove, as if on the point of rising, yet loth to rise.