Never had Damaris admired the "man with the blue eyes" more, never felt a more perfect trust in him, than when beholding him as _Mousquetaire au Couvent_ thus! As they emerged again into the clear atmosphere and resonance of the Paris streets, and made their way back by the Rue du Bac, the Pont Royal and the gardens of the Tuileries, to their hotel in the Rue de Rivoli, Carteret spoke reverently of the religious life, and the marvellous adaptability of the Catholic system to every need, every attitude of the human heart and conscience.

He spoke further of the loss those inevitably sustain, who--from whatever cause--stand outside the creeds, unable to set their spiritual God-ward hopes and aspirations within a definite external framework of doctrine and practice hallowed by tradition.
"I could almost wish those dear holy women had gathered your little soul into the fold, when they had you in their keeping and made a good Catholic of you, dearest witch," he told her.

"It would have been a rather flagrant case of cradle-snatching, I own, but I can't help thinking it would have simplified many difficulties for you." "And raised a good many, too," Damaris gaily answered him.

"For Aunt Harriet Cowden would have been furious, and Aunt Felicia distressed and distracted; and poor Nannie--though she really got quite tame with the Sisters, and came to respect them in the end--would have broken her heart at my being taught to worship images, and have believed hell yawned to devour me.

Oh! I think it was more fair to wait .-- All the same I loved their religion--I love it still." "Go on loving it," he bade her .-- And at once turned the conversation to other themes--that of her father, Charles Verity among them, and the book on Afghanistan, the fair copy of the opening chapters of which was just completed.
Then, the stimulating, insistent vivacity of Paris going a little to Damaris' head--since urging, as always, to fullness of enterprise, fullness of endeavour, giving, as always, immense joy and value to the very fact of living--she lamented the late development of her father's literary genius.