Page:The Novels and Tales of Henry James, Volume 1 (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907).djvu/313

 ; energy was there, audacity, the restless questioning soul. "I 'm afraid I 'm sadly prosaic," he said, "for in these many months now that I 've been in Rome I 've never ceased for a moment to look at the Faith simply from the outside. I don't see an opening as big as your finger-nail where I could creep into it!"

"What do you believe?" asked Christina, looking at him. "Do you believe anything at all?"

"I 'm very old-fashioned. I believe in the grand old English Bible."

English'—?"

"American then," Rowland smiled.

She let her beautiful eyes wander a while, and then gave a small sigh. "You're much to be envied!"

"Oh 'envied'—!" And Rowland fairly sounded bitter.

"Yes, you have rest."

"You 're too young to envy anybody anything."

"I'm not young; I've never been young! My mother took care of that. I was a little wrinkled old woman at ten."

"I 'm afraid," said Rowland in a moment, "that you 're fond of overloading the picture."

She looked at him a while in silence. "Do you wish to win my eternal gratitude? Prove to me that I 'm better than I suppose."

"I should have first to know what you really suppose."

She shook her head. "It would n't do! You would be horrified to learn even the things I imagine about 279