pressed all who met
him with a character of absolute devotion and disinterestedness, and
there were many who thought that a successor to the saints might be
found in Stafford, if anywhere in this degenerate age. Yet though he
was, or was thought to be, all this, his friends were yet loud in
declaring--and ever foremost among them Eugene Lane--that a better,
simpler, or more modest man did not exist. For the weakness of humanity,
it may be added that Stafford's appearance gave him fully the external
aspect most suitable to the part his mind urged him to play; for he was
tall and spare; his fine-cut face, clean shaven, displayed the
penetrating eyes, prominent nose, and large mobile mouth that the memory
associates with pictures of Italian prelates who were also statesmen.
These personal characteristics, combined with his attitude on Church
matters, caused him to be familiarly known among the flippant by the
nickname of the Pope.

Eugene Lane stood upon his hearthrug, conversing with the Bishop of
Bellminster and covertly regarding his betrothed out of the corner of an
apprehensive eye. They had not met alone since the morning, and he was
naturally anxious to find out whether that unlucky "Claudia" had been
overheard. Claudia herself was listening to the conversation of Mr.
Morewood, the well-known artist; and Stafford, who had only arrived
just before dinner, was still busy in answering Mrs. Lane's questions
about his health. Sir George Merton had failed at the last moment, "like
a Radical," said Claudia.

"I am extremely interested in meeting your friend Father Stafford," said
the Bishop.

"Well, he's a first-rate fellow," replied Eugene. "I'm sure you'll like
him."

"You young fellows call him the Pope, don't you?" asked his lordship,
who was a genial man.

"Yes. You don't mind, do you? It's not as if we called him the
Archbishop of Canterbury, you know."

"I shouldn't consider even that very personal," said the Bishop,
smiling.

Dinner was announced. Eugene gave the Bishop's wife his arm, whispering
to Claudia as he passed, "Age before impudence"; and that young lady
found that she had fallen to the lot of Stafford, whereat she was well
pleased. Kate was paired with Haddington, and Mr. Morewood with Aunt
Jane. The Bishop, of course, escorted the hostess.

"And who," said he, almost as soon as he was comfortably settled to his
soup, "is the young lady sitting by our friend the Father--the one, I
mean, with