"
"Hear him!" said his grandmother; "young as he is, he hath learned
already the lessons of the devil's school! The rosary, consecrated by
the Holy Father himself, and sanctified by his blessing, is but a few
knobs of gold, whose value may be replaced by the wages of his profane
labour, and whose virtue may be supplied by a string of
hazel-nuts!--This is heresy--So Henry Warden, the wolf who ravages
the flock of the Shepherd, hath taught thee to speak and to think."
"Mother," said Roland Graeme, "I am no heretic; I believe and I pray
according to the rules of our church--This misfortune I regret, but I
cannot amend it."
"Thou canst repent it, though," replied his spiritual directress,
"repent it in dust and ashes, atone for it by fasting, prayer, and
penance, instead of looking on me with a countenance as light as if
thou hadst lost but a button from thy cap."
"Mother," said Roland, "be appeased; I will remember my fault in the
next confession which I have space and opportunity to make, and will
do whatever the priest may require of me in atonement. For the
heaviest fault I can do no more.--But, mother," he added, after a
moment's pause, "let me not incur your farther displeasure, if I ask
whither our journey is bound, and what is its object. I am no longer a
child, but a man, and at my own disposal, with down upon my chin, and
a sword by my side--I will go to the end of the world with you to do
your pleasure; but I owe it to myself to inquire the purpose and
direction of our travels.
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