frantic persuasions of a father who, hating all that he had formerly loved, abandoning all that, influenced by his faithless wife, he had formerly clung to, wished to carry his daughter with him into his new and most miserable way of life.  But Domini, who, with much of her mother’s dark beauty, had inherited much of her quick vehemence and passion, was also gifted with brains, and with a certain largeness of temperament and clearness of insight which Lady Rens lacked.  Even when she was still quivering under the shock and shame of her mother’s guilt and her own solitude, Domini was unable to share her father’s intensely egoistic view of the religion of the culprit.  She could not be persuaded that the faith in which she had been brought up was proved to be a sham because one of its professors, whom she had above all others loved and trusted, had broken away from its teachings and defied her own belief.  She would not secede with her father; but remained in the Church of the mother she was never to see again, and this in spite of extraordinary and dogged efforts on the part of Lord Rens to pervert her to his own Atheism.  His mind had been so warped by the agony of his heart that he had come to feel as if by tearing his only child from the religion he had been led to by the greatest sinner he had known, he would be, in some degree at least, purifying his life tarnished by his wife’s conduct, raising again a little way the pride she had trampled in the dust.

Her uncle, Father Arlworth, helped Domini by his support and counsel in this critical period of her life, and Lord Rens in time ceased from the endeavour to carry his child with him as companion in his tragic journey from love and belief to hatred and denial.  He turned to the violent occupations of despair, and the last years of his life were hideous enough, as the world knew and Domini sometimes suspected.  But though Domini had resisted him she was not unmoved or wholly uninfluenced by her mother’s desertion and its effect upon her father.  She remained a Catholic, but she gradually ceased from being a devout one.  Although she had seemed to stand firm she had in truth been shaken, if not in her belief, in a more precious thing—­her love.  She complied with the ordinances, but felt little of the inner beauty of her faith.  The effort she had made in withstanding her father’s assault upon it had exhausted her.  Though she had had the strength to triumph, at the moment, a partial and secret collapse was the price she had afterwards to pay.  Father Arlworth, who had a subtle understanding of human nature, noticed that Domini was changed and slightly hardened by the tragedy she had known, and was not surprised or shocked.  Nor did he attempt to force her character back into its former way of beauty.  He knew that to do so would be dangerous, that Domini’s nature required peace in which to become absolutely normal once again after the shock it had sustained.