e had suppressed; the reforms he had made;
the manner in which he had once fought with and at length convinced the
Consistory of Rome. Through all he spoke with the utmost humility,
recognising himself an agent, not a principal to whom any credit was
due.

Over this portion of his life we draw a discreet veil. It was disclosed
under secrecy. Partly to prevent identification; partly because other
names were inevitably introduced, some of which were as household words
in the world of the French Church.

The time had passed unconsciously. There was a singular charm and
attraction about Delormais. His fine presence and high breeding, his
animated way of talking and graphic powers of description, all carried
you beyond yourself. Everything was forgotten but the man before you.
For the moment you were lost in the scenes he portrayed so vividly.
Underlying all, running through all like a fine silken warp, his
sympathetic nature was evident. Strong, decided, commanding, loving to
rule, he was yet singularly lovable. When was this ever otherwise where
sympathy was the keynote of the disposition? He was a man to come to for
advice and consolation. Broad-minded above all the small views and
judgments of human nature, if he chastised with the one hand, he took
care to heal with the other. No one need dread his condemnation. We had
been so recently under the influence of both men it was impossible to
help contrasting this strong, admirable nature with the calm, retiring,
almost celestial beauty of Anselmo: each perfect in its way. We
mentioned him to Delormais as a type.

"Ay, I know him well," he replied: "have known him always. The Canon who
was his protector and left him a portion of his wealth, was one of my
few intimate friends. A purer spirit than Anselmo's never breathed. He
might be advanced to high places in the Church, but is better and
happier where he is. In all my wide experiences I have never met his
equal. Of course I know his story, and his love for Rosalie--hers for
him: an idyll almost too perfect for earth. I know her well also, and
all her saintliness. Such love and faith are rare: a consistency worth
all the sermons that ever were preached. How different was my fevered
love from theirs; my rash, unreflecting impulse in that Algerian
paradise. And yet, Heaven be praised, nothing but good came of it. All
is ordained; all is for the best if only our heart's desire is to do
well. All comes right in the end. I hav