Loss and Gain. John Henry Newman

to be."

      "What was your first reform?" asked Miss Bolton.

      "I fear," answered White, "it would fare hard with your protégée, the old lady who dusts out the pews."

      "Why, certainly," said Miss Bolton, "because there would be no pews to dust."

      "But not only in office, but in person, or rather in character, she must make her exit from the church," said White.

      "Impossible," said Miss Bolton; "are women, then, to remain Protestants?"

      "Oh, no," answered White, "the good lady will reappear, only in another character; she will be a widow."

      "And who will take her present place?"

      "A sacristan," answered White; "a sacristan in a cotta. Do you like the short cotta or the long?" he continued, turning to the younger lady.

      "I?" answered Miss Charlotte; "I always forget, but I think you told us the Roman was the short one; I'm for the short cotta."

      "You know, Charlotte," said Miss Bolton, "that there's a great reform going on in England in ecclesiastical vestments."

      "I hate all reforms," answered Charlotte, "from the Reformation downwards. Besides, we have got some way in our cope; you have seen it, Mr. White? it's such a sweet pattern."

      "Have you determined what to do with it?" asked Willis.

      "Time enough to think of that," said Charlotte; "it'll take four years to finish."

      "Four years!" cried White; "we shall be all real Catholics by then; England will be converted."

      "It will be done just in time for the Bishop," said Charlotte.

      "Oh, it's not good enough for him!" said Miss Bolton; "but it may do in church for the Asperges. How different all things will be!" continued she; "I don't quite like, though, the idea of a cardinal in Oxford. Must we be so very Roman? I don't see why we might not be quite Catholic without the Pope."

      "Oh, you need not be afraid," said White sagely; "things don't go so apace. Cardinals are not so cheap."

      "Cardinals have so much state and stiffness," said Miss Bolton: "I hear they never walk without two servants behind them; and they always leave the room directly dancing begins."

      "Well, I think Oxford must be just cut out for cardinals," said Miss Charlotte; "can anything be duller than the President's parties? I can fancy Dr. Bone a cardinal, as he walks round the parks."

      "Oh, it's the genius of the Catholic Church," said White; "you will understand it better in time. No one is his own master; even the Pope cannot do as he will; he dines by himself, and speaks by precedent."

      "Of course he does," said Charlotte, "for he is infallible."

      "Nay, if he makes mistakes in the functions," continued White, "he is obliged to write them down and confess them, lest they should be drawn into precedents."

      "And he is obliged, during a function, to obey the master of ceremonies, against his own judgment," said Willis.

      "Didn't you say the Pope confessed, Mr. White?" asked Miss Bolton; "it has always puzzled me whether the Pope was obliged to confess like another man."

      "Oh, certainly," answered White, "every one confesses."

      "Well," said Charlotte, "I can't fancy Mr. Hurst of St. Peter's, who comes here to sing glees, confessing, or some of the grave heads of houses, who bow so stiffly."

      "They will all have to confess," said White.

      "All?" asked Miss Bolton; "you don't mean converts confess? I thought it was only old Catholics."

      There was a little pause.

      "And what will the heads of houses be?" asked Miss Charlotte.

      "Abbots or superiors," answered White; "they will bear crosses; and when they say Mass, there will be a lighted candle in addition."

      "What a good portly abbot the Vice-Chancellor will make!" said Miss Bolton.

      "Oh, no; he's too short for an abbot," said her sister; "but you have left out the Chancellor himself: you seem to have provided for every one else; what will become of him?"

      "The Chancellor is my difficulty," said White gravely.

      "Make him a Knight-Templar," said Willis.

      "The Duke's a queer hand," said White, still thoughtfully: "there's no knowing what he'll come to. A Knight-Templar—yes; Malta is now English property; he might revive the order."

      The ladies both laughed.

      "But you have not completed your plan, Mr. White," said Miss Bolton: "the heads of houses have got wives; how can they become monks?"

      "Oh, the wives will go into convents," said White: "Willis and I have been making inquiries in the High Street, and they are most satisfactory. Some of the houses there were once university-halls and inns, and will easily turn back into convents: all that will be wanted is grating to the windows."

      "Have you any notion what order they ought to join?" said Miss Charlotte.

      "That depends on themselves," said White: "no compulsion whatever must be put on them. They are the judges. But it would be useful to have two convents—one of an active order, and one contemplative: Ursuline for instance, and Carmelite of St. Theresa's reform."

      Hitherto their conversation had been on the verge of jest and earnest; now it took a more pensive tone.

      "The nuns of St. Theresa are very strict, I believe, Mr. White," said Miss Bolton.

      "Yes," he made reply; "I have fears for the Mrs. Wardens and Mrs. Principals who at their age undertake it."

      They had got home, and White politely rang the bell.

      "Younger persons," said he tenderly, "are too delicate for such a sacrifice."

      Louisa was silent; presently she said, "And what will you be, Mr. White?"

      "I know not," he answered; "I have thought of the Cistercians; they never speak."

      "Oh, the dear Cistercians!" she said; "St. Bernard wasn't it?—sweet, heavenly man, and so young! I have seen his picture: such eyes!"

      White was a good-looking man. The nun and the monk looked at each other very respectfully, and bowed; the other pair went through a similar ceremony; then it was performed diagonally. The two ladies entered their home; the two gentlemen retired.

      We must follow the former upstairs. When they entered the drawing-room they found their mother sitting at the window in her bonnet and shawl, dipping into a chance volume in that unsettled state which implies that a person is occupied, if it may be so called, in waiting, more than in anything else.

      "My dear children," she said as they entered, "where have you been? the bells have stopped a good quarter of an hour: I fear we must give up going to church this morning."

      "Impossible, dear mamma," answered Miss Bolton; "we went out punctually at half-past nine; we did not stop two minutes at your worsted-shop; and here we are back again."

      "The only thing we did besides," said Charlotte, "was to look in at St. James's, as the door was open, to say a word or two to poor old Wiggins. Mr. White was there, and his friend Mr. Willis; and they saw us home."

      "Oh, I understand," answered Mrs. Bolton; "that is the way when young gentlemen and ladies get together: but at any rate we are late for church."

      "Oh, no," said Charlotte, "let us set out directly, we shall get in by the first lesson."

      "My dear child, how can you propose such a thing?" said her mother: "I would not do so for any consideration; it is so very disgraceful. Better not go at all."

      "Oh, dearest mamma," said the elder sister, "this certainly is a prejudice. Why always come in at one time? there is something so formal in people coming in all at once, and waiting for