“Well, that depends on its subject. To tell the truth, I was thinking that these lights resembled a little your conversation; all the wondrous things you are always saying or telling us.”
The archbishop was a man who never recurred to the past. One could never suppose that Endymion and himself had been companions in their early youth, or, so far as their intercourse was concerned, that there was such a place in the world as Hurstley. One night, however, as they were pacing the deck together, he took the arm of Endymion, and said, “I trace the hand of Providence in every incident of your sister’s life. What we deemed misfortunes, sorrows, even calamities, were forming a character originally endowed with supreme will, and destined for the highest purposes. There was a moment at Hurstley when I myself was crushed to the earth, and cared not to live; vain, short-sighted mortal! Our great Master was at that moment shaping everything to His ends, and preparing for the entrance into His Church of a woman who may be, who will be, I believe, another St. Helena.”
“We have not spoken of this subject before,” said Endymion, “and I should not have cared had our silence continued, but I must now tell you frankly, the secession of my sister from the Church of her fathers was to me by no means a matter of unmixed satisfaction.”
“The time will come when you will recognise it as the consummation of a Divine plan,” said the archbishop.
“I feel great confidence that my sister will never be the slave of superstition,” said Endymion. “Her mind is too masculine for that; she will remember that the throne she fills has been already once lost by the fatal influence of the Jesuits.”
“The influence of the Jesuits is the influence of Divine truth,” said his companion. “And how is it possible for such influence not to prevail? What you treat as defeats, discomfitures, are events which you do not comprehend. They are incidents all leading to one great end—the triumph of the Church—that is, the triumph of God.”
“I will not decide what are great ends; I am content to ascertain what is wise conduct. And it would not be wise conduct, in my opinion, for the King to rest upon the Jesuits.”
“The Jesuits never fell except from conspiracy against them. It is never the public voice that demands their expulsion or the public effort that accomplishes it. It is always the affair of sovereigns and statesmen, of politicians, of men, in short, who feel that there is a power at work, and that power one not favourable to their schemes or objects of government.”
“Well, we shall see,” said Endymion; “I candidly tell you, I hope the Jesuits will have as little influence in my brother-in-law’s kingdom as in my own country.”
“As little!” said Nigel, somewhat sarcastically; “I should be almost content if the holy order in every country had as much influence as they now have in England.”