The Launching of Roger Brook

as far as she could, but she had not a penny of her own; and, if his father remained adamant, even the best employment he could hope to get would produce an income that, to Athenais, would seem little better than penury. Yet, save her he must from de Caylus, and this seemed the only possible way that offered; so he went on with more confidence.

'I've a hundred and fifty louis saved, which would keep us in reasonable comfort for a while. Then your jewels, with those you received to-night, must be worth a small fortune. God forbid that I should live on you like some shiftless adventurer; but they would provide a sheet anchor, were there some delay in my obtaining a suitable appointment. That should not be hard, though, after the experience I've had with your father. We would not be rich, but I've confidence in myself now, and once given a decent opening I vow I could earn enough to keep us like gentlefolk. And we'd have each other.'

She flung her arms round his neck. 'Oh, Roje, dear miller's youngest son; I've not a doubt but that in time you'll make your fortune, and I'd be content to wait for that. I hate the Court, with all its boring ceremonies and stupid etiquette. I'll leave it gladly if you can make enough so that we'll not starve.'

'Very well!' he cried, pressing her to him. 'Oh, my beloved! I swear you'll not regret it. My father will come round. He could not do otherwise once he sees you. But that apart, we'll make a place for ourselves and have such joy in doing it. With you to work for nothing can stop me.'

'I know it,' she laughed, turning her tear-stained face up to him. 'As for my jewels, they are yours to do as you wish with. At least they would buy and furnish a pleasant little house. Then what you earned could be devoted wholly to food, clothes and servants, and— and children, if they came to us.'

'I hope they do. I'd adore to have a daughter just like you.'

'Oh, but I must have a son first. A son, Roje, with your blue eyes and those lovely, long dark lashes.'

'We'll have both, dear heart; and more if you wish. Would you like lots of children?'

'Yes. And I would keep them with us in our home. I'd not let them be put out to nurse as is the custom here in France.'

'I wouldn't let you, anyway,' he smiled. 'There is little point in having children unless one has the fun of playing with them.'

'And telling them stories,' she added. 'I know so many lovely fairy stories that I shall be able to tell ours.'

'Our own story is better than any fairy tale, and you will be able to tell them that, my sweet Princess.'

'Dear miller's youngest son! I fear I'll find it very strange in England at first, though. Shall we five in London?'

He nodded. 'Yes, since 'tis there that I shall find my best oppor­tunities. And with you for my wife I'll be the proudest man in the whole city.

'Your wifel' she whispered.

Suddenly she gripped his arms with all her strength and her fingers dug into his muscles.

'Your wife!' she breathed again. 'But, Roje, I had forgot. I never think of you as one, but—but you are a heretic. I could never marry a heretic.'

He too, had temporarily forgotten that last sinister barrier, of man-made bigotry, intolerance and superstition, which, towering high above all others, still separated them.

'You would be an Englishwoman if you married me,' he muttered, still dazed from the sudden shock to all the castles in the air they had been building. 'And nearly everyone in England is a Protestant.

'Don't ask me to recant!' she cried. 'Don't ask me, I beg. I couldn't do it. 'Twould be to imperil my immortal soul.'

All Roger's love for her, all the mental pictures of the dream world they had been creating and his acute reluctance to leave her in her present desperate situation, fought within him against the inherited teachings of the Reformation; yet they were not strong enough to prevail entirely.

'I'd give my life for you,' he said slowly. 'I would lay it down to-morrow; but I hesitate to risk my hopes of salvation.'

'Then how can we marry? Oh, Roje, will you not think again, and be received into the Catholic Church?'

'I cannot promise that. I must have time to consider it. But wait! Does not the Pope grant dispensations in special cases? If we could secure one we might yet be married in your Church but each continue in our own religions.'

She looked up suddenly, with new hope shining in her eyes. ' 'Tis true; and there lies the way out of our difficulty. Such dispensations are costly, I believe; but, if need be, the price of my jewels must go for that. And, for your part, 'twould be necessary only for you to sign a promise that any children of the marriage be brought up in the Roman faith.'

'What say you!' he exclaimed. 'Commit unborn children to follow a faith of which they have no knowledge! Nay, that I would never do. My soul is my own to jeopardise for love's sake if I wish. Having done so I might still receive God's mercy, but how could I ever hope for that if I signed away the rights of others, who have as yet no minds with which to take decisions of their own.'

'But, Roje,' she pleaded. ' 'Tis natural that children should be brought up to some religion.'

'Indeed it is; and as in most cases the parents are of the same faith there arises no question as to what it should be. But where the parents differ 'tis but fair that the children should be left a free choice to decide for themselves, when they are old enough.'

Athehais sighed. 'Roje, dear heart, I am no theologian to argue such questions. I know only the simple facts. The Holy Father will not grant a dispensation for such a marriage as we plan unless you are willing to swear a solemn oath that all children of the marriage should be baptised into the Catholic faith.'

He laid his hands on hers and gently drew her arms away from about his neck. 'My love,' he said softly, 'Tate is too strong for us. Even for you I'll buy no dispensation at such a price. Come to England with me if you will and we'll tell everyone that we have been married in France. I pledge yon my oath, here and now, never to desert you, and to ever regard you in all things as my wife. But unless you'll marry me by Church of England rites, more I have not the power to offer.'

'I cannot,' she whispered. ' 'Twould make me old before my time to have the ever-present knowledge that I was living in sin; and that my children were bastards, born out of wedlock. No lasting happiness to either of us could ever come of it.'

Then with a moan she turned away from him and, burying her face in his pillow, began to sob out her heart.

While he soothed and sought to comfort her he strove to think of some way in which he might yet save her from having to marry de Caylus. It came to him then that there was one possible line of action which he might attempt.

She sat up at last and, still crying quietly, said: 'I cannot blame you, Roje. I would feel the same, did you try to bring my babies up as heretics. For a little time we deluded ourselves with a vision of a happiness that we shall never know. Yet I will not submit to marrying de Caylus. There is one escape that even my father cannot deny me. I'd rather put the world and all things in it behind me by casting myself upon the bosom of the Church.'

'What! Take the veil?' he exclaimed, aghast.

'Yes. Why not? Had I not known love with you I might have supported that loathsome man's caresses. But now 'tis impossible. If he touched me I would plunge a poignard in his heart; so 'tis better, far, that I should enter a convent.

'You must not do it,' he pleaded. 'You are so young, so beautiful; 'twould be a sin against nature to let them cut off your golden hair and shut you up for life. Besides, I have thought of a way by which I yet may free you from this hateful marriage. I'll call M. de Caylus out, and kill him.'

'Oh, my sweet Roje,' she sighed. 'The thought is monstrous brave and I know you'd do it, were it possible; but you forget the status you have assumed here in France. M. de Caylus would never accept your challenge. No noble will ever cross swords with one whom he considers to be beneath him.'

Carried away by his distress, Roger had forgotten that; yet he knew that she was right, and he could only