stant
divines, to meet them in any argument on religion that they cared to
select, in any place and at any time, if only his own safe-conduct were
secure? And was it not notorious that none would meet him? He was,
indeed, a fire, a smoke in the nostrils of his adversaries, a flame in
the hearts of his friends. Everywhere he ranged, he and his comrade,
Father Persons, sometimes in company, sometimes apart; and wherever they
went the Faith blazed up anew from its dying embers, in the lives of
rustic knave and squire.

And she was to see him!

* * * * *

"He is here for four or five days only," went on Anthony presently,
still in a low, cautious voice. "The hunt is very hot, they say. Not
even the host knows who he is; or, at least, makes that he does not. He
is under another name, of course; it is Mr. Edmonds, this time. He was
in Essex, he tells me; but comes to the wolves' den for safety. It is
safer, he says, to sit secure in the midst of the trap, than to wander
about its doors; for when the doors are opened he can run out again, if
no one knows he is there...."

III

When supper was finished at last, and the maids had borne away the
dishes, there came almost immediately a tap upon the door; and before
any could answer, there walked in a man, smiling.

He was of middle-size, dressed in a dark, gentleman's suit, carrying his
feathered hat in his hand, with his sword. He appeared far younger than
Marjorie had expected--scarcely more than thirty years old, of a dark
and yet clear complexion, large-eyed, with a look of humour; his hair
was long and brushed back; and a soft, pointed beard and moustache
covered the lower part of his face. He moved briskly and assuredly, as
one wholly at his ease.

"I am come to the right room?" he said. "That is as well."

His voice, too, had a ring of gaiety in it; it was low, quite clear and
very sympathetic; and his manners, as Marjorie observed, were those of a
cultivated gentleman, without even a trace of the priest. She would not
have been astonished if she had been told that the man was of the court,
or some great personage of the country. There was no trace of furtive
hurry or of alarm about him; he moved deftly and confidently; and when
he sat down, after the proper greetings, crossed one leg over the other,
so that he could nurse his foot. It seemed more incredible even than she
had thought, that this was Father Campion!

"You have plea