the dropping of water might hollow the stone. If
the dropping should be put an end to by outward circumstances before
the stone had been impressed that would not be his fault. He at any
rate would do his duty. In that fixed resolution Father Barham was
admirable. But he had no scruple whatsoever as to the nature of the
arguments he would use,--or as to the facts which he would proclaim.
With the mingled ignorance of his life and the positiveness of his
faith he had at once made up his mind that Melmotte was a great man,
and that he might be made a great instrument on behalf of the Pope. He
believed in the enormous proportions of the man's wealth,--believed
that he was powerful in all quarters of the globe,--and believed,
because he was so told by 'The Surplice,' that the man was at heart a
Catholic. That a man should be at heart a Catholic, and live in the
world professing the Protestant religion, was not to Father Barham
either improbable or distressing. Kings who had done so were to him
objects of veneration. By such subterfuges and falsehood of life had
they been best able to keep alive the spark of heavenly fire. There was
a mystery and religious intrigue in this which recommended itself to the
young priest's mind. But it was clear to him that this was a peculiar
time,--in which it behoved an earnest man to be doing something. He had
for some weeks been preparing himself for a trip to London in order
that he might spend a week in retreat with kindred souls who from time
to time betook themselves to the cells of St Fabricius. And so, just
at this season of the Westminster election, Father Barham made a
journey to London.

He had conceived the great idea of having a word or two with Mr
Melmotte himself. He thought that he might be convinced by a word or
two as to the man's faith. And he thought, also, that it might be a
happiness to him hereafter to have had intercourse with a man who was
perhaps destined to be the means of restoring the true faith to his
country. On Saturday night,--that Saturday night on which Mr Melmotte
had so successfully exercised his greatness at the India Office,--he
took up his quarters in the cloisters of St Fabricius; he spent a
goodly festive Sunday among the various Romanist church services of
the metropolis; and on the Monday morning he sallied forth in quest of
Mr Melmotte. Having obtained that address from some circular, he went
first to Abchurch Lane. But on this day, and on the next,