imidly into his face, were full of the measureless pity that is
in the eyes of the surgeon who is about to vivisect a dumb creature
because it is necessary for the welfare of the human race.

She knelt and kissed his ring. He raised her and put her to sit on the
lounge, sitting in the arm-chair himself, and continuing to hold her
hand. The Capuchin stood by the window, holding the curtain aside as if
looking out on the piazza.

"You believe the Holy Father would not send for you to injure you?" he
said.

"I am sure he would not, your Holiness," she answered.

"And though I disapprove of your husband's doings, you know I would not
willingly do him any harm?"

"The Holy Father would not do harm to any one; and my husband is so
good, and his aims are so noble, that nobody who really knew him could
ever try to injure him."

He looked into her face; it shone with a frightened joy, and pity grew
upon him.

"Your devotion to your husband is very sweet and beautiful, my daughter,
and it grieves the Holy Father's heart to trouble it. But it seems to be
his duty to do so, and he must do his duty."

Again she looked up timidly, and again the sense came to him of dumb
eyes full of entreaty.

"My daughter, your husband's motives may not be bad. They may even be
good and noble. It is often so with men of his sympathies. They see the
disparity of wealth and poverty, and their hearts are torn with anger
and with pity. But, my child, they do not know that true and lasting
reforms, such as affect the whole human family, can only be
accomplished by God and by the authority of His Holy Church and
Pontificate, and that it must be the bell of St. Peter's which announces
them to the world."

As the Pope was speaking the colour ran up Roma's face like a flag of
distress. She looked helplessly round at the Capuchin. The dumb eyes
seemed to ask when the blow would fall.

"As a consequence, what is he doing, my daughter? Ignoring the Church,
which like a true mother is ever anxious to bear the burden of human
weakness and suffering; he is setting up a new gospel, such as would
reduce mankind to a worse barbarism than that from which Christ freed
us. Is this conduct worthy of your devotion, my child?"

Roma fixed her timid eyes on the Pope's face and answered:

"I have nothing to do with my husband's opinions, your Holiness. I have
only to be true to the friendship he gives me and the love I bear him."

"My child," said the Pope,