“The ways of the Infinite Ordainment are dark and difficult to understand,” he said.  “And I deserve punishment for daring to enquire into wisely-hidden mysteries!  But, God knows it is not for myself that I would pierce the veil!  Nothing that concerns myself at all matters,—­I am a straw on the wind,—­a leaf on the storm—­and whatever God’s law provides for me, that I accept and understand to be best.  But for many millions of sad souls it is not so—­and their way is hard!  If they could fully understand the purpose of existence they would be happier—­but they cannot—­and we of the Church are too blind ourselves to help them, for if a little chink of light be opened to us, we obstinately refuse to see!”

He went to his sleeping room and threw himself down on his bed dressed as he was, too fatigued in body and mind to do more than utter his brief usual prayer, “If this should be the sleep of death, Lord Jesus receive my soul!” And as he closed his eyes he heard the rain drop on the roof in heavy slow drops that sounded like the dull ticking of a monstrous clock piecing away the time;—­and then he slept, deeply and dreamlessly,—­the calm and unconscious and refreshing slumber of a child.

How long he slept he did not know, but he was wakened suddenly by a touch and a voice he knew and loved, calling him.  He sprang up with almost the alacrity of youth, and saw Manuel standing beside him.

“Did you call me, my child?”

“Yes, dear friend!” And Manuel smiled upon him with a look that conveyed the brightness of perfect love straight from the glance into the soul.  “I need you for myself alone to-night!  Come out with me!”

The Cardinal gazed at him in wonder that was half a fear.

“Come out with me!”

Those had been the words the boy had used to the Pope, the Head of the Church, when he had dared to speak his thoughts openly before that chiefest man of all in Rome!

“Come out with me!”

“Now, in the darkness and the rain?” asked the Cardinal wonderingly.  “You wish it?  Then I will come!”

Manuel said nothing further, but simply turned and led the way.  They passed out of the little tenement house they inhabited into the dark cold street,—­and the door closed with a loud bang behind them, shut to by the angry wind.  The rain began to fall more heavily, and the small slight figure of the waif and stray he had befriended seemed to the Cardinal to look more lonely and piteous than ever in the driving fog and darkness.

“Whither would you go, my child?” he asked gently.  “You will suffer from the cold and storm—­”

“And you?” said Manuel.  “Will you not also suffer?  But you never think of yourself at all!—­and it is because you do not think of yourself that I know you will come with me to-night!—­even through a thousand storms!—­through all danger and darkness and pain and trouble,—­you will come with me!  You have been my friend for many days—­you will not leave me now?”