s had
gradually grown up about this shrine of healing, until now, up to
a height of at least five hundred feet, the city of Mary stood on
bastion after bastion of the lower slopes of the hills, like some
huge auditorium of white stone, facing down towards the river and
the Holy Place.

Finally, on the left, immediately to the left of the two
priests who stood silently looking, fifty feet below, ran the
sweep of the Gave, crossed by innumerable bridges which gave
access to the crowding town beyond the water, where once had
been nothing but meadowland and the beginning of the great
southern plain of France.

There was an air of extraordinary peace and purity about this
place, thought Monsignor. Whiteness was the predominating
colour--whiteness beneath, and whiteness running up high on the
right on to the hills--and above the amazing blue of the southern
sky. It was high and glorious summer about them, with a breeze as
intoxicating as wine and as fresh as water. From across the Place
they could hear the quick flapping of the huge Mary banner that
flew above the hall, for there were no wheels or motors here to
crush out the acuteness of the ear. The transference of the sick
from the hostels above the town was carried out by
aeroplanes--great winged decks, with awnings above and at the
sides, that slid down as if on invisible lines, to the entrance
of the other side of the hall, whence after a daily examination
by the doctors they were taken on by hand-litters to the grotto
or the bathing-pools.

* * * * *

Monsignor heard a step behind him as he stood and looked, still
pathetically bewildered by all that he saw, and still struggling,
in spite of himself, with a new upbreak of scepticism; and
turning, saw Father Jervis in the act of greeting a young monk in
the Benedictine habit.

"I knew we should meet. I heard you were here," the old man was
exclaiming. "You remember Monsignor Masterman?"

They shook hands, and Monsignor was not disappointed in
his friend's tact.

"Father Adrian absolutely haunts Lourdes nowadays," went on
Father Jervis. "I wonder his superiors allow him. And how's the
book getting on?"

The monk smiled. He was an exceedingly pleasant person to look
upon, with a thin, refined face and large, startlingly blue eyes.
He shook his head as he smiled.

"I'm getting frightened," he said. "I cannot see with the theologians
in all points. Well, the least said, the soonest mended."

Fat