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the mystical. If the Pope could have his way, Catholicism would soon be at an end--except as a peasant-cult--in the Latin countries. But, thank God, he will not have his way. One hears of a Modernist freemasonry among the Italian clergy--of a secret press--an enthusiasm, like that of the Carboneria in the forties. So the spirit of the Most High blows among the dead clods of the world--and, in a moment the harvest is there!"
* * * * *
Meynell let the paper drop. He began to write, and he wrote without stopping with great ease and inspiration for nearly two hours. Then as midnight struck, he put down his pen, and gazed into the dying fire. He felt as Wordsworth's skater felt on Esthwaite, when, at a sudden pause, the mountains and cliffs seemed to whirl past him in a vast headlong procession. So it was in Meynell's mind with thoughts and ideas. Gradually they calmed and slackened, till at last they passed into an abstraction and ecstasy of prayer.
When he rose, the night had grown very cold. He hurriedly put his papers in order, before going to bed, and as he did so, he perceived two unopened letters which had been overlooked.
One was from Hugh Flaxman, communicating the news of the loss of two valuable gold coins from the collection exhibited at the party. "We are all in tribulation. I wonder whether you can remember seeing them when you were talking there with Norham? One was a gold stater of Velia with a head of Athene."...
The other letter was addressed in Henry Barron's handwriting. Meynell looked at it in some surprise as he opened it, for there had been no communication between him and the White House for a long time.
"I should be glad if you could make it convenient to see me to-morrow morning. I wish to speak with you on a personal matter of some importance--of which I do not think you should remain in ignorance. Will it suit you if I come at eleven?"
Meynell stood motionless. But the mind reacted in a flash. He thought--
"Now I shall know wh