"And probably will," replied the other. "But when the present notions shall have come to their full growth, as they must do--when the King shall have permanently become the servant of the Minister, and the Minister the mere agent of the mob--when, instead of '_Ego et Hex mens,_' it shall have become '_Nos_' without any '_Rex_' at all--when all men shake hands over the sepulchre of their religious prejudices and political passions--Father Cuthbert, then will be the triumph of the Catholic Church. If only she knew how to use the interval!--to be patient, never to be in a hurry--to instil gently and unperceivedly into men's minds the idea that all are equal, have equal rights, and are equally right--to work very slowly and very surely; she needs but one thing more, and that is the man at the helm. Let her choose the man. He must be plausible--able to talk well--to talk in a circle, and come to no conclusion--to throw dust in Protestant eyes: the bigger cloud he can raise the better. Let him hold out openly one hand to Protestantism, and give the other behind his back to Rome. When the foundation is so laid, and the man stands at the helm--our work is finished, Father Cuthbert. But I doubt if any Stuart will be reigning then--nay, I doubt if any will reign at all." "So much for England, then!" responded Stevens, with a rather dubious smile. "And Scotland?--and Ireland?" "Scotland!" said Gilbert, slowly. "I am a Scot, Father Cuthbert, though 'tis years since I saw Scotland. And I tell you, as a nation, we are hard-headed and long-sighted; and we do not as a rule take up with anything before testing it. But just as the sweetest-tempered man can be the most terrible when he is angry, so, when you can throw dust in a Scotchman's eyes, you make him blind indeed." "And Ireland?" repeated Stevens. "The cause was lost there, Father, on a certain 1st of July, more than twenty years ago. And as yet Ireland has been rather too busy setting her own house in order to have much leisure left to meddle with ours." "You forget one thing, Gilbert," said Stevens, gravely. "Think how many Catholic emissaries we have in Ireland and Scotland, and how Catholic the Gaelic heart once was, and the Erse heart has ever been." "Father Cuthbert, how many members of the Society of Jesus were in Oliver Cromwell's army?" "A good many," admitted Stevens. "Hundreds," resumed Gilbert.[5] "And do you think they did the cause any good?" "Well, it scarce looked so at the time," said Stephens. "But in the end it seemed more like it."