ty of the faith, and for teaching that very
doctrine of the unity of the one Holy Catholic Church upon which
your Eminence laid such stress in speaking awhile ago? Give me up
to the mercy of the bishop, and let Clarke go free!"

The piercing gaze of the cardinal was fixed upon Dalaber's
strenuous face. All weakness had vanished from it now. It was full
of passionate earnestness and dauntless courage. His dark eyes met
those of Wolsey without fear or shrinking. The loftiness of a great
resolve, a great sacrifice, was shining in them.

"I will consider this matter, my sons," spoke the cardinal, whose
face softened as he gazed first at one young man and then at the
other. "I must communicate with the bishop, and I will see you
again. Fortunately he is not far from London. A messenger can
quickly reach him. Come to me here in four days' time, and I will
see you again and perchance give you an answer. Will your mind have
changed in those days, Anthony Dalaber? Do you indeed mean the
things that you have said?"

"I do," he answered quietly, and added no protestations.

"I will remember," spoke the cardinal; and rising to his feet he
gave to Arthur the benediction for which he bent his knee.

Dalaber hesitated for a moment, and then he too knelt. There was no
hypocrisy in this act. Something in the aspect and the words of the
cardinal had changed his opinion of the man during the brief
interview.

"The Lord bless thee, my son," spoke the priest solemnly. "The Lord
give thee grace and discernment, wisdom and light. The Lord
strengthen all that is good in thee, that it may live and grow, and
cast out and uproot all that may become a stumbling block or root
of bitterness within thee. The Lord give to thee the understanding
mind, the childlike heart, the pure spirit of the children of
light, and lead and guide thee into all truth. Amen."

The two companions went quietly from the room, and through the long
and stately passages, where the worldly pomp visible had stirred in
Dalaber on entering a sense of incongruity and almost of contempt.

But he did not think of these things as he walked out into the
sunny street; and both had got far upon the road to their lodgings,
hard by Moor Fields, ere either spoke a word.

"I trow he will do it," then said Arthur, drawing a long breath.

"You think so truly?"

"I watched his face. It was hard to read its look; yet I thought
there came a gleam of anger into it when I spoke of t