dismay while he waited for her seal to come down on him and stamp him to
her model. For he foresaw more clearly than ever now the hundred
inconveniences that must follow, now that it was evident that to
Marjorie's mind (and therefore to God Almighty's) there must be no
tampering with the old religion. He had known that it must be so; yet he
had thought, on the way here, of a dozen families he knew who, in his
own memory, had changed from allegiance to the Pope of Rome to that of
her Grace, without seeming one penny the worse. There were the Martins,
down there in Derby; the Squire and his lady of Ashenden Hall; the
Conways of Matlock; and the rest--these had all changed; and though he
did not respect them for it, yet the truth was that they were not yet
stricken by thunderbolts or eaten by the plague. He had wondered whether
there were not a way to do as they had done, yet without the disgrace of
it.... However, this was plainly not to be so with him. He must put up
with the inconveniences as well as he could, 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.