. He's extraordinarily determined. But I wanted
to know if you could give me any hope on the other side. Could
you do anything for him with the Cardinal, or at Rome?"

"I . . . I will speak to the Cardinal, certainly, if you wish.
But----"

"Yes, I know. But you know a great deal depends on the temper
of the court. Facts depend for their interpretation upon the
point of view."

"But I understand that it's definite heresy--that he denies that
there is any distinction between the miracles of the Church and----"

The abbot interrupted.

"Yes, yes, Monsignor. But for all that there's a great deal in
the way these things are approached. You see there's so much
neutral ground on which the Church has defined nothing."

"I am afraid, from what I've seen of the papers, that Dom Adrian
will insist on a clear issue."

"I'm afraid so: I'm afraid so. We'll do our best here to persuade
him to be reasonable. And I thought that if you would perhaps do
your best on the other side--would tell the Cardinal, as from
yourself, what you think of Dom Adrian."

Monsignor nodded.

"If we could but postpone the trial for a while," went on the
abbot almost distractedly. "That poor boy! His face has been with
me all to-day."

For an instant Monsignor almost gave way. He felt himself on the
point of breaking out into a burst of protest against the whole
affair--of denouncing the horror and loathing that during these
last days had steadily grown within him--a horror that so far he
had succeeded in keeping to himself. Then once more he crushed it
down, and stood up for fear his resolution should give way.

"I will do what I can, my lord," he said coldly.

(III)

A great restlessness seized upon the man who had lost his
memory that night.

He had thought after his return from abroad that things were well
with him again--that he had learned the principles of this world
that was so strange to him; and his busy days--all that had to be
done and recovered, and his success in doing it--these things at
once distracted and soothed him. And now once more he was back in
his bewilderment.

One great principle it was which confused his whole outlook--the
employment of force upon the side of Christianity. Here, on the
large scale, was the forcible repression of the Socialists; on a
small scale, the punishment of a heretic. What kind of religion
was this that preached gentleness and practised violence? . . .

Between eleven and twelve o