"I have got faculties from the bishop," he continued, "to receive Ormsby, and to use the short form. He'll be a noble Catholic. He is intelligent, and deeply in earnest."
"And who is this great man he is bringing from Dublin?" I asked.
"Oh! the doctor? An old chum. They have seen some rough and smooth weather together. This fellow is gone mad about his profession, and he studies eighteen hours out of the twenty-four—"
"He ought to be a Master of Conference," I interrupted. "But won't our own man be jealous?"
"Not at all. He says he has done his best for Alice; and if any one else can help her on, he'll be delighted. But he is not sanguine, nor am I."
"Nor I. It appears a deep-rooted affair. But what a visitation—God's angel, cloaked from head to foot in blackness, and with a flaming sword."
We were both silent, thinking of many things.
"Then the procession will be all right, sir?" he said at last, waking up.
"I hope so," I said resignedly. "Everything else that you have touched you have adorned. This will follow suit."
"Thank you, sir," he said. "It will be a glorious day for the children."