less. No man who has any
principles that can be called religious can say otherwise. I tell
you plainly that should it come to be a choice between Caesar and
God--between the King and the Pope--I should throw myself at once
on the side of Christ and his Vicar. . . ."

(Monsignor drew a breath. It seemed to him that this was
appallingly plain speaking. He expected a murmur of remonstrance.
He glanced at the faces, but there was no movement or change,
except that a young member suddenly smiled, as with pleasure.)

"But I love England," went on the voice, "passionately and
devotedly. And in spite of what I said just now I must add that,
as an Englishman, there is but one more thing that I desire for
my country, and that is that she may carry out that project on
whose account you, gentlemen, have met to-day."

(Again a murmur of applause rose, and sank again instantly.)

"You have kindly asked me to make this little speech, and I do
not wish to turn it into a sermon, but I must conclude by saying
that, splendid as is the history of England in many points, there
is one black blot upon the page, and that, the act of hers by
which she renounced Christ's Vicar, by whom kings reign. You have
done justice at last in returning to us those possessions which
our forefathers dedicated to God's service. But there remains one
more thing to do, formally and deliberately, as one kingdom, to
return to Him who is King of kings. I know it will come some day.
As individuals, Englishmen have already returned to Him. But a
corporate crime must be expiated by corporate reparation, and it
is that reparation which has already waited too long. I am an old
man, gentlemen. That, no doubt, is why I have been so verbose,
but my one prayer for the last thirty years has been that that
corporate reparation may be made within my own lifetime. . . ."

The voice suddenly trembled.

Then the watcher saw the chair pushed back, and the little
scarlet cap, covering the white hair, rise above it.
Simultaneously every man rose to his feet.

"That is all, gentlemen."

There was a moment's silence.

Then the applause broke out. It was not loud or noisy, as there
were scarcely two dozen men in the room, yet it was
astonishingly affecting, just the tapping of hands on the table
and a murmur of voices.

The Cardinal silenced it by a gesture.

"One word, gentlemen. . . . I have said nothing of any
opposition. Perhaps it would have been better if I had. B