his young friend's hand. "Do you dislike Oxford?"
he asked, observing Penrose attentively.

"Bear with me, Father, if I speak too confidently. I dislike the
deception which has obliged me to conceal that I am a Catholic and a
priest."

Father Benwell set this little difficulty right, with the air of a man
who could make benevolent allowance for unreasonable scruples. "I think,
Arthur, you forget two important considerations," he said. "In the first
place, you have a dispensation from your superiors, which absolves
you of all responsibility in respect of the concealment that you have
practiced. In the second place, we could only obtain information of
the progress which our Church is silently making at the University by
employing you in the capacity of--let me say, an independent observer.
However, if it will contribute to your ease of mind, I see no objection
to informing you that you will _not_ be instructed to return to Oxford.
Do I relieve you?"

There could be no question of it. Penrose breathed more freely, in every
sense of the word.

"At the same time," Father Benwell continued, "let us not misunderstand
each other. In the new sphere of action which we design for you, you
will not only be at liberty to acknowledge that you are a Catholic,
it will be absolutely necessary that you should do so. But you will
continue to wear the ordinary dress of an English gentleman, and to
preserve the strictest secrecy on the subject of your admission to the
priesthood, until you are further advised by myself. Now, dear Arthur,
read that paper. It is the necessary preface to all that I have yet to
say to you."

The "paper" contained a few pages of manuscript relating the early
history of Vange Abbey, in the days of the monks, and the circumstances
under which the property was confiscated to lay uses in the time of
Henry the Eighth. Penrose handed back the little narrative, vehemently
expressing his sympathy with the monks, and his detestation of the King.

"Compose yourself, Arthur," said Father Benwell, smiling pleasantly.
"We don't mean to allow Henry the Eighth to have it all his own way
forever."

Penrose looked at his superior in blank bewilderment. His superior
withheld any further information for the present.

"Everything in its turn," the discreet Father resumed; "the turn of
explanation has not come yet. I have something else to show you first.
One of the most interesting relics in England. Look here."

He un