where the Archbishop
of London preached a sermon from the steps. Even these facts,
although in a sense he knew they must be so, drove home into the
priest's mind the realization of how the Church was, once again,
as five hundred years ago, the centre and not merely a department
of the national life.

In every direction, as he leaned over Ambrosden Avenue, as he
looked down Francis Street to right and left, everywhere nothing
of the streets was visible under the steadily moving pavement of
heads. Every space between the tall houses resembled the flow of
an intricate stream, with its currents, its eddies, its
back-waters, beneath the clear radiance of the artificial light.
Here and there actors were seen gesticulating in dumb show, for
all sounds were drowned in the steady subdued roar of voices.
There was no delirium, no horse-play; the citizens were too well
disciplined. Occasionally from this point or that a storm of
cheering broke out as some great man was recognized.

About half-past nine mounted policemen began to make their
appearance from Victoria Street, and an open way was gradually
formed leading to a cleared space in front of the Cathedral. Ten
minutes later cars began to follow, as the great folks began to
arrive for the _Te Deum_, and almost simultaneously the bells
broke out, led by the solemn crash of the great "St. Edward"
from the campanile.

(V)

They read in the morning the full text of the proclamation to
the Socialists.

As Monsignor Masterman carne up from breakfast, he felt his arm
taken, and there was Father Jervis, his clever old face lit up by
excitement. He too carried a morning paper under his arm.

"I want to have a talk with you about this," he said, "Have you
seen the Cardinal yet?"

"I'm to see him at ten. I feel perfectly helpless. I don't
understand in the least."

"Have you read it through yet?"

"No, I glanced at it only. I wish you'd help me through, father."

The old priest nodded.

"Well, we'll read every word of it first,"

As they passed into the sitting-room, the prelate slipped forward
the little door-plate that announced that he was within, but
engaged. Then, without a word, they sat down, and there was dead
silence for twenty minutes, broken only by the rustle of turning
pages, and an occasional murmur of raised voices from the groups
that still wandered round the Cathedral--pools of that vast river
that had filled every channel last night. Father Jervis