She raised her shoulders.

"I wouldn't learn it if I could do without it! But you Catholics are bred
upon it."

"We are the children of the Church," he said gently. "And it is her
tongue."

She made no answer, and he talked of something else immediately. As they
crossed the little footbridge he drew her attention to the deep pool on
the further side, above which was built the wooden platform, where Laura
had held her May tryst with Mason.

"Did I ever tell you the story of my great-grandfather drowning in that
pool?"

"What, the drinking and gambling gentleman?"

"Yes, poor wretch! He had half killed his wife, and ruined the
property--so it was time. He was otter hunting--there is an otter hole
still, half-way down that bank. Somehow or other he came to the top of
the crag alone, probably not sober. The river was in flood; and his poor
wife, sitting on one of those rock seats with her needlework and her
books, heard the shouts of the huntsmen--helped to draw him out and to
carry him home. Do you see that little beach?"--he pointed to a break in
the rocky bank. "It was there--so tradition says--that he lay upon her
knee, she wailing over him. And in three months she too was gone."

Laura turned away.