who had come in
at Paris had descended at Turin.

* * * * *

He had been remarkably relieved when the message had come three days
before from the Cardinal-Protector, bidding him make arrangements for a
long absence from England, and, as soon as that was done, to come to
Rome. He understood that the ecclesiastical authorities were really
disturbed at last.

He reviewed the last day or two, considering the report he would have to
present. Since his last letter, three days before, seven notable
apostasies had taken place in Westminster diocese alone, two priests and
five important laymen. There was talk of revolt on all sides; he had
seen a threatening document, called a "petition," demanding the right to
dispense with all ecclesiastical vestments, signed by one hundred and
twenty priests from England and Wales. The "petitioners" pointed out
that persecution was coming swiftly at the hands of the mob; that the
Government was not sincere in the promises of protection; they hinted
that religious loyalty was already strained to breaking-point even in
the case of the most faithful, and that with all but those it had
already broken.

And as to his comments Percy was clear. He would tell the authorities,
as he had already told them fifty times, that it was not persecution
that mattered; it was this new outburst of enthusiasm for Humanity--an
enthusiasm which had waxed a hundredfold more hot since the coming of
Felsenburgh and the publication of the Eastern news--which was melting
the hearts of all but the very few. Man had suddenly fallen in love with
man. The conventional were rubbing their eyes and wondering why they had
ever believed, or even dreamed, that there was a God to love, asking one
another what was the secret of the spell that had held them so long.
Christianity and Theism were passing together from the world's mind as a
morning mist passes when the sun comes up. His recommendations--? Yes,
he had those clear, and ran them over in his mind with a sense of
despair.

For himself, he scarcely knew if he believed what he professed. His
emotions seemed to have been finally extinguished in the vision of the
white car and the silence of the crowd that evening three weeks before.
It had been so horribly real and positive; the delicate aspirations and
hopes of the soul appeared so shadowy when compared with that burning,
heart-shaking passion of the people. He had never seen anything like it;
no congregation under the