for the truth without noise or
conspiracy.

"And this is the glory of the Irish," Monsignor continued, "this is the
fact which fills me with pride, American as I am, in the race whose
blood I own; they have preserved the faith for the great
English-speaking world. Already the new principle peculiar to that faith
has begun its work in literature, in art, in education, in social life.
Heresy allowed the Christ to be banished from all the departments of
human activity, except the home and the temple. Christ is not in the
schools of the children, nor in the books we read, nor in the pictures
and sculptures of our studios, nor in our architecture, even of the
churches, nor in our journalism, any more than in the market-place and
in the government. These things are purely pagan, or worthless
composites. It looks as if the historian of these times, a century or
two hence, will have hard work to fitly describe the Gesta Hibernicorum,
when this principle of Christianity will have conquered the American
world as it conquered ancient Europe. I tell you, Owen," and he strode
to the window with hands outstretched to the great building, "in spite
of all the shame and suffering endured for His sake, God has been very
good to your people, He is heaping them with honors. As wide as is the
power of England, it is no wider than the influence of the Irish faith.
Stubborn heresy is doomed to fall before the truth which alone can set
men free and keep them so."

Ledwith had begun to tremble, but he said never a word.

"I am prouder to have had a share in the building of that temple,"
Monsignor continued, "than to have won a campaign against the English.
This is a victory, not of one race over another, but of the faith over
heresy, truth over untruth. It will be the Christ-like glory of Ireland
to give back to England one day the faith which a corrupt king
destroyed, for which we have suffered crucifixion. No soul ever loses by
climbing the cross with Christ."

Ledwith gave a sudden cry, and raised his hands to heaven, but grew
quiet at once.

The priest watched contentedly the spires of his cathedral.

"You have touched heart and reason together," Honora whispered.

Ledwith remained a long time silent, struggling with a new spirit. At
last he turned the wide, frank eyes on his friend and victor.

"I am conquered, Monsignor."

"Not wholly yet, Owen."

"I have been a fool, a foolish fool,--not to have seen and understood."

"And