This conversation had been occasioned by a paragraph in the Morning
Post, circulating a rumor that a young noble, obviously Lothair, on the
impending completion of his minority, was about to enter the Roman
Church. The duchess and her daughter were sitting in a chamber of their
northern castle, and speculating on their return to London, which was to
take place after the Easter which had just arrived. It was an important
social season for Corisande, for she was to be formally introduced into
the great world, and to be presented at court.

In the mean while, was there any truth in the report about Lothair?

After their meeting at their lawyer's, a certain intimacy had occurred
between the cardinal and his ward. They met again immediately and
frequently, and their mutual feelings were cordial. The manners of his
eminence were refined and affectionate; his conversational powers were
distinguished; there was not a subject on which his mind did not teem
with interesting suggestions; his easy knowledge seemed always ready and
always full; and whether it were art, or letters, or manners, or even
political affairs, Lothair seemed to listen to one of the wisest, most
enlightened, and most agreeable of men. There was only one subject on
which his eminence seemed scrupulous never to touch, and that was
religion; or so indirectly, that it was only when alone that Lothair
frequently found himself musing over the happy influence on the arts,
and morals, and happiness of mankind -- of the Church.

In due time, not too soon, but when he was attuned to the initiation,
the cardinal presented Lothair to Lady St. Jerome. The impassioned
eloquence of that lady germinated the seed which the cardinal had seemed
so carelessly to scatter. She was a woman to inspire crusaders. Not
that she ever: condescended to vindicate her own particular faith, or