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"Write to the Bishop, dear, and tell him you will take Saint Peter's, when he offers it," she begged him. Brenton lifted his head to stare at her, aghast. "Catia, I can't," he told her sternly. Nevertheless, in the end of things, he did. His later self-reckonings were all the more severe on that account.
Of the matron, except for the face, nothing is open to your scrutiny unless she is a Catia who has dispensed with her clothing so that she may be felt all over thoroughly, the rest will be hidden. But as for the other, no difficulty there!
He needed a little time to recover from their strain, to grow accustomed to his new dignity as preacher and to learn to take himself a little less strenuously, before he would be fitted to assume his proper place in a wider field than any of which as yet he appeared to be dreaming. However, two years, it seemed to Catia, had been an ample rest-time. Therefore, "Fudge!" she said.
"Really," Catia observed to her solitary bridesmaid, a week before the wedding day; "you'd never think it that Scott was just getting ready to be married; would you?" The bridesmaid was not so much tactless as envious.
A plan has long been in contemplation for making a cart-road through this ravine and abandoning the old road to La Guayra, which resembles the passage over St. Gothard. According to this plan, the port of Catia, equally large and secure, would supersede that of La Guayra. Unfortunately, however, all that shore, to leeward of Cabo Blanco, abounds with mangroves, and is extremely unhealthy.
"Of course," she added, with a hasty giggle; "a minister like Scott is more used to weddings than we girls are." Turning from the mirror, Catia spoke with a dignity which was crushing. "But not to his own," she informed her guest. And Eva Saint Clair Andrews gave up the effort to extricate herself from disgrace. Instead, she fell upon discussion of the wedding plans.
It just was, a fact without any planning or volition on his part. He had known Catia from his little boyhood, had been used to her, had counted on her in a sense; but always he had held himself a little bit aloof from her, even when, to outward seeming, he had sought her with the greatest regularity.
None the less, lacking the training vouchsafed to Catia by the closing functions of the divinity school, she wondered what the cloth might be, that it should so outrank good Mrs. Brenton in its claim to social precedence. A week later, came the wedding.
He had felt sure that he had heard "I, Scott, take thee, Catia." In his more mellow New York life, such transforming evolution was less common. However, names were a detail. It was the fact he challenged. "Your wife? But how can she stay outside it, Brenton?" "Oh, she's not outside it, in a sense. Before the boy came, she was in all the guilds and parish teas and that.
Catia put on the cover of the sugar bowl with a defiant clash. "Surely, you don't mean to stay buried in this little hole much longer?" Once more his smile showed whimsical. "Really, Catia, I hadn't thought about it as a hole," he said. "About my staying here or anywhere, I suppose it all depends upon the Bishop."
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