But as you know, we do not at present aspire
to outward or ceremonial changes. We are quite
content to leaven the meal from within; to uphold
the absolute right and necessity of the two languages
in Christianity—the popular and the scientific,
the mythological and 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 what she told him in
those two hours!”
“The Rector will be back, sir, direckly.
I was to I tell you so pertickler. They had ‘im
out to a man in the Row, who’s been drinkin’
days, and was goin’ on shockin’—his
wife was afraid to stop in the house. But he
won’t be long, sir.”
And Anne, very stiff and on her dignity, relieved
one of the two armchairs of its habitual burden of
books, gave it a dusting with her apron, and offered
it to the visitor. It was evident that she regarded
his presence with entire disfavour, but was prepared
to treat him with prudence for the master’s
sake. Her devotion to Meynell had made her shrewd;
she perfectly understood who were his enemies, and
who his friends.
