first Communion, the beginnings of the personal life. "But I had very
little fervour then, such as many boys feel. I did not doubt--I would not
have shown any disrespect to my religion for the world, mostly, I think,
from family pride--but I felt no ardour, and did not pretend any. My
mother sometimes shed tears over it, and was comforted by her old
confessor--so she told me when she was dying--who used to say to her:
'Feeling is good, but obedience is better. He obeys;' for I did all my
religious duties without difficulty. Then at thirteen I was sent to
Stonyhurst. And there, after a while, God began His work in me."

He paused a moment; and when he resumed, his voice shook:

"Among the masters there was a certain Father Lewin. He took an affection
for me, and I for him. He was even then a dying man, but he accomplished
more, and was more severe to himself, than any man in health I ever knew.
So long as he lived, he made the path of religion easy to me. He was the
supernatural life before my eyes. I had only to open them and see. The
only difference between us was that I began--first out of love for him, I
suppose--to have a great wish to become a Jesuit; whereas he was against
it--he thought there were too many special claims upon me here. Then,
when I was eighteen, he died. I had seen him the day before, when there
seemed to be no danger, or they concealed it from me. But in the night I
was called, too late to hear him speak; he was already in his agony. The
sight terrified me. I had expected something much more consoling--more
beautiful. For a long time I could not shake off the impression, the
misery of it."

He was silent again for a minute. He still held Laura's hands close, as
though there was something in their touch that spurred him on.