“Why, yes,” said Anthony.
“And you a Protestant, and in the Archbishop’s household?”
“Why, yes,” said Anthony, “and a Christian and your friend.”
“God bless you, Anthony,” said the priest; and took his hand and pressed it.
They were passing out now under the west door, and stood together for a moment looking at the lights down Ludgate Hill. The houses about Amen Court stood up against the sky to their right.
“I must not stay,” said Anthony, “I must fetch my horse and be back at Lambeth for evening prayers at six. He is stabled at the Palace here.”
“Well, well,” said the priest, “I thank God that there are true hearts like yours. God bless you again my dear boy—and—and make you one of us some day!”
Anthony smiled at him a little tremulously, for the gratitude and the blessing of this man was dear to him; and after another hand grasp, he turned away to the right, leaving the priest still half under the shadow of the door looking after him.
He had done his errand promptly and discreetly.