“In yours,” returned Catesby. “A mighty blow is about to be struck for her deliverance.”
“Ay, marry, is it,” cried Oldcorne, with sudden fervour. “Redemption draweth nigh; the year of visitation approacheth to an end; and jubilation is at hand. England shall again be called a happy realm, a blessed country, a religious people. Those who knew the former glory of religion shall lift up their hands for joy to see it returned again. Righteousness shall prosper, and infidelity be plucked up by the root. False error shall vanish like smoke, and they which saw it shall say where is it become? The daughters of Babylon shall be cast down, and in the dust lament their ruin. Proud heresy shall strike her sail, and groan as a beast crushed under a cart-wheel. The memory of novelties shall perish with a crack, and as a ruinous house falling to the ground. Repent, ye seducers, with speed, and prevent the dreadful wrath of the Powerable. He will come as flame that burneth out beyond the furnace. His fury shall fly forth as thunder, and pitch upon their tops that malign him. They shall perish in his fury, and melt like wax before the fire.”
“Amen!” ejaculated Catesby, as the priest concluded. “You have spoken prophetically, father.”
“I have but recited a prayer transmitted to me by Father Garnet," rejoined Oldcorne.
“Do you discern any hidden meaning in it?” demanded Catesby.
“Yea, verily my son,” returned the priest. “In the 'false error vanishing like smoke,'—in the 'house perishing with a crack,'—and in the 'fury flying forth as thunder,'—I read the mode the great work shall be brought about.”
“And you applaud the design?” asked Catesby, eagerly.
“Non vero factum probo, sed eventum amo,” rejoined the priest.
“The secret is safe in your keeping, father?” asked Catesby, uneasily.
“As if it had been disclosed to me in private confession,” replied Oldcorne.