aim the empire, as you yourself say, or we shall have no handle
against him. He will not dare to proclaim it if he knows that we are
aware of the truth. And if we are to keep the truth in reserve, we must
have something else to serve meanwhile as a substitute for it.'

And poor Arsenius submitted with a sigh, as he saw Cyril making a fresh
step in that alluring path of evil-doing that good might come, which led
him in after years into many a fearful sin, and left his name disgraced,
perhaps for ever, in the judgment of generations, who know as little
of the pandemonium against which he fought, as they do of the intense
belief which sustained him in his warfare; and who have therefore
neither understanding nor pardon for the occasional outrages and errors
of a man no worse, even if no better, than themselves.

CHAPTER XXI: THE SQUIRE-BISHOP

In a small and ill-furnished upper room of a fortified country house,
sat Synesius, the Bishop of Cyrene.

A goblet of wine stood beside him, on the table, but it was untasted.
Slowly and sadly, by the light of a tiny lamp, he went on writing a
verse or two, and then burying his face in his hand, while hot tears
dropped between his fingers on the paper; till a servant entering,
announced Raphael Aben-Ezra.

Synesius rose, with a gesture of surprise, and hurried towards the door.
'No, ask him to come hither to me. To pass through those deserted rooms
at night is more than I can bear.' And he waited for his guest at the
chamber door, and as he entered, caught both his hands in his, and tried
to speak; but his voice was choked within him.

'Do not speak,' said Raphael gently, leading him to his chair again. 'I
know all.'

'You know all? And are you, then, so unlike the rest of the world,
that you alone have come to visit the bereaved and the deserted in his
misery?'

'I am like the rest of the world, after all; for I came to you on my own
selfish errand, to seek comfort. Would that I could give it instead! But
the servants told me all, below.'

'And yet you persisted in seeing me, as if I could help you? Alas! I can
help no one now. Here I am at last, utterly alone, utterly helpless. As
I came from my mother's womb, so shall I return again. My last child--my
last and fairest--gone after the rest!--Thank God, that I have had even
a day's peace wherein to lay him by his mother and his brothers; though
He alone knows how long the beloved graves may remain unrifled. Let
it