ose
that were too short were made long. It is a pleasant classical name for
the rack."

Marjorie caught her breath. But Father Campion went on smoothly.

"We shall have a clear day to-morrow, I think," he said. "If you are at
liberty, sir, and these ladies are not too wearied--I have a little
business in Westminster; and--"

"Why, yes," said Anthony, "for to-morrow night we expect friends. From
Rheims, sir."

The priest dropped his foot and leaned forward.

"From Rheims?" he said sharply.

The other nodded.

"Eight or ten at least will arrive. Not all are priests. One is a friend
of our own from Derbyshire, who will not be made priest for five years
yet."

"I had not heard they were to come so soon," said Father Campion. "And
what a company of them!"

"There are a few of them who have been here before. Mr. Ballard is one
of them."

The priest was silent an instant.

"Mr. Ballard," he said. "Ballard! Yes; he has been here before. He
travels as Captain Fortescue, does he not? You are a friend of his?"

"Yes, sir."

Father Campion made as if he would speak; but interrupted himself and
was silent; and it seemed to Marjorie as if another mood was fallen on
him. And presently they were talking again of London and its sights.

IV

In spite of her weariness, Marjorie could not sleep for an hour or two
after she had gone to bed. It was an extraordinary experience to her to
have fallen in, on the very night of her coming to London, with the one
man whose name stood to her for all that was gallant in her faith. As
she lay there, listening to the steady breathing of Alice, who knew no
such tremors of romance, to the occasional stamp of a horse across the
yard, and, once or twice, to voices and footsteps passing on some paved
way between the houses, she rehearsed again and again to herself the
tales she had heard of him.

Now and again she thought of Robin. She wondered whether he, too, one
day (and not of necessity a far-distant day, since promotion came
quickly in this war of faith), would occupy some post like that which
this man held so gaily and so courageously; and for the first time,
perhaps, she understood not in vision merely, but in sober thought, what
the life of a priest in those days signified. Certainly she had met man
after man before--she had entertained them often enough in her mother's
place, and had provided by her own wits for their security--men who
went in peril of liberty and even of l