"Holiness, I want to go on. Do You know who wrote the other letters?"
"Oh yes. D.J. was another 'excellent priest.' He was in philosophy when We were in theology at Maryvale. Why you know him too, Leighton,—he took his B.A. with Ambrose."
"What, 'Gionde'? Yes, of course I knew him."
"That's the man. We have not heard from him for years: but he evidently thought it right to defend Us. Poor chap! A snub rewards him. The Catholic Hour 'differs from him.' ... A tipsy publican wrote the second; and the third was written by a Jesuit jackal, in return for the custom of, and most likely at the dictation of, the very detestable scoundrel to whom We wrote the last."
"What became of him? The bad priest I mean?"
"He ruined himself, as We predicted. He persisted in his career of crime till his bishop found him out. Then he was broken, and disappeared—Maison de santé or something of that sort for a time. He's in one of the colonies now; and he might have been—— Lord Cardinal, We have said too much. It is not Our Will and pleasure to move in this matter."
"But the advantage I derive from hearing Your Holiness—if it is not impertinent—Holiness, I venture to assure you of my eternal fidelity——" Leighton stammered with emotion.
Hadrian shewed him no face: turned to the window which displayed the panorama of Intangible Rome; and presently was alone.
"God! God!" He exclaimed, shaking the paper with terrific violence. "Do you see this brutal cynical unrighteousness—prejudged,—condemned,—the mere suggestion of defence derided and fleered-at——in England, fair-minded England—England the land of the free——"
No: it was not England, but just a handful of the vicious vermin which infest her. England—the word summoned Him to His apostolature again. What was the mind of England now? That question occupied Him. He wished that England would declare Her mind to Him through ambassadors, the mind of the statesmen of England. He had no official acquaintance with any one of them. He could not ask for England's confidence: for, being English, He knew that asking slams the door. Humanly speaking, He had nothing to guide Him in the cosmic crisis of the present, the crisis in which He was certain to be consulted—as a last resort—but certain to be consulted. Of that, He was convinced. A short calculation displayed Jupiter passing through Aries, which signified immense benefit to England. Oh, very good. Then what should be His course of action? He got up and went round the room, looking at the maps and noting them, until it seemed that His mental horizon expanded and enlarged, and He had the whole of the orb of the earth within His vision. What should He say, or do, for England, when she was too shy, too proud, to give Him a sign as to what She wanted Him to say, or do? England, England!—"Land of hope and glory,—how shall We extol thee Who are born of thee?—wider still and wider shall thy bounds be set: God, Who made thee mighty, make thee mightier yet!"