A skilled observer would now have seen plainly
revealed in him the habit of command, and the capacity for insisting
on his right to be obeyed. From head to foot, Father Benwell was one of
those valuable soldiers of the Church who acknowledge no defeat, and who
improve every victory.

After a while, he returned to the table at which he had been writing
when Lady Loring entered the room. An unfinished letter lay open on
the desk. He took up his pen and completed it in these words: "I have
therefore decided on trusting this serious matter in the hands of Arthur
Penrose. I know he is young--but we have to set against the drawback of
his youth, the counter-merits of his incorruptible honesty and his true
religious zeal. No better man is just now within my reach--and there
is no time to lose. Romayne has recently inherited a large increase of
fortune. He will be the object of the basest conspiracies--conspiracies
of men to win his money, and (worse still) of women to marry him. Even
these contemptible efforts may be obstacles in the way of our righteous
purpose, unless we are first in the field. Penrose left Oxford last
week. I expect him here this morning, by my invitation. When I have
given him the necessary instructions, and have found the means of
favorably introducing him to Romayne, I shall have the honor of
forwarding a statement of our prospects so far."

Having signed these lines, he addressed the letter to "The Reverend
the Secretary, Society of Jesus, Rome." As he closed and sealed the
envelope, a servant opened the door communicating with the hall, and
announced:

"Mr. Arthur Penrose."

CHAPTER II.

THE JESUITS.

FATHER BENWELL rose, and welcomed the visitor with his paternal smile.
"I am heartily glad to see you," he said--and held out his hand with a
becoming mixture of dignity and cordiality. Penrose lifted the offered
hand respectfully to his lips. As one of the "Provincials" of the Order,
Father Benwell occupied a high place among the English Jesuits. He was
accustomed to acts of homage offered by his younger brethren to their
spiritual chief. "I fear you are not well," he proceeded gently. "Your
hand is feverish, Arthur."

"Thank you, Father--I am as well as usual."

"Depression of spirits, perhaps?" Father Benwell persisted.

Penrose admitted it with a passing smile. "My spirits are never very
lively," he said.

Father Benwell shook his head in gentle disapproval of a depressed
state of s