The Bishop's sensitive face quivered with emotion. He remained silent an instant and then looked up into the young man's face. "Wilt promise me one thing?"
"If I can, Father."
"Wilt preach the sermon in the Cathedral next Sunday?"
Annys hesitated an instant before he replied. "Only to give the sermon," he stipulated.
"I shall celebrate the Mass myself. I would like you to give the sermon just as you are. There will be a goodly number of people, and it is my whim that you should be heard once from the pulpit. It will come with a new authority. Besides," he added, with a twinkle in his eye, "I should like to have some of our priests hear it. It might not be a bad thing for the Nuncio himself."
And thus, before he departed, Robert Annys had given his promise to deliver the sermon on the following Sunday at Ely.
The Bishop did not yet acknowledge himself defeated. Well he knew the magnetism of the wonderful old church. Well he knew that men did not preach before three thousand souls in Ely Minster and then lightly step forth on their way again.