The Loyalist Part 56

"Next week is going to see the greatest event in the history of the Church in America," Marjorie heard her father remark as he placed his hat upon the rack behind the door.

"What is it now?" inquired her mother who chanced to be in the sitting-room when he entered.

"The Congress is going to Ma.s.s."

"The Congress?" she exclaimed. "Praised be G.o.d!"

"What news, father?" asked Marjorie, hurrying into the room.

"The Congress, the President and the prominent men of the nation have been invited to take part in the solemn Te Deum next Sunday. It is the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration."

"Isn't that remarkable?"

"It is remarkable," he repeated. "The French Amba.s.sador has issued the invitations and all have signified their intentions of being present.

Here is one of them." Taking from his pocket a folded paper, he handed it to Marjorie. She opened it at once and read aloud,

"Mr. Matthew Allison:--You are invited by the Minister Plenipotentiary of France to attend the Te Deum, which will be chanted on Sunday, the 4th of this month, at noon, in the new Catholic Chapel, to celebrate the anniversary of the Independence of the United States of America.

"Philadelphia, the Second of July. M. Gerard."

"The Congress going to Ma.s.s!" said his wife, apparently unable to comprehend fully the meaning of it all.

"The more one thinks of it the more strange it becomes. They branded Charles the First a Papist because he permitted his queen, who was born and bred a Catholic, to attend Holy Ma.s.s. Now we have our newly-formed government not alone countenancing Popery, but actually partic.i.p.ating in a supposedly pagan and idolatrous form of wors.h.i.+p."

"This marks the end of religious prejudice in this country," observed Marjorie. "At length all men are in all things equal, equal in the sight of G.o.d and man. Don't you think our leaders must realize this and are taking steps to prepare the minds of the people accordingly?"

"Yes," he replied, "and I don't know but what it is only right. We all go to the market together, trade our goods together, rub elbows together, clear the land together, fight together. Why shouldn't we live together in peace? Intolerance and bigotry are dead and buried. We have laid the foundations of the greatest country in the world."

"Thank G.o.d for that!" breathed Mrs. Allison.

"We are respected above all calculation," Mr. Allison continued. "Our Loyalty now is unquestioned."

"We may thank G.o.d for that, too."

"And Captain Meagher!" added Marjorie.

Her eyes beamed.

"Yes, you are right, girl," said her father. "We can thank Captain Meagher. The frustration and the exposure of that plot has increased our reputation an hundredfold. Heretofore, the Catholic population had been regarded as an insignificant element, but when the ambitions of the enemy to secure their cooperation were discovered, the value of the Catholics to the country suddenly rose."

"Our unity must have created a lasting impression," Marjorie remarked.

"Not alone our unity, but our loyalty as well. The government has learned that we have been ever true to the land of our birth, ever loyal to the country of our adoption. It has thoughtfully considered the value of our sacrifices, and has carefully estimated our contribution to the cause of freedom. When the charter of liberty a.s.sumes a more definite form our rights will specifically be determined. Of that I am reasonably certain. The enemy failed to allure us from our country in its time of need; our country will not abandon us in our time of need."

"Stephen did it," announced Marjorie.

"Stephen helped to do it," replied her father.

III

That same evening, during a stolen moment while her mother was busied with the turning of the buckwheat cakes, Marjorie crept to her father's knee and folded her arms over it.

"Daddy!" she looked up at him from her seated posture on the floor.

"What would you say to a very eligible young man who had told you that he was very fond of you?"

"What would I say?" asked the father in surprise.

"Yes. What would you?"

"I would not say anything. I would have him examined."

"No, Daddy. This is serious," and she pushed his knee from her as she spoke.

"I am serious. If a man told me that he was very fond of me, I would question his sanity."

She laughed.

"You know what I mean. I mean if you were a girl and----"

"But I am not a girl."

"Well, if you were?"

"If I was what?"

"You know what I mean quite well. Would you hate him at first?"

"I hope not. I should want to strangle him, but I wouldn't hate him."

"And you would strangle him? For what?"

"For daring."

"Daring what?"

"You know."

He smiled.

"Oh, dear! Won't you listen to me? Tell me what to do."

"I could not tell you. You have not told me what has happened."

"I asked you what you would say to an attractive soldier who had told you that he loved you."