But to-day, unconsciously, his talk took a tone that was rare with him--became prophetical, pontifical--assumed a note of unction. And often, as Molly noticed, with a slight instinctive gesture--a fatherly turning towards that golden spot made by Laura's hair among the shadows. His friend fell silent after a while--watching Friedland with small sharp eyes. He had come there to discuss a new edition of Sidonius Apollinaris,--was himself one of the driest and acutest of investigators. All this talk for babes seemed to him the merest waste of time. Friedland, however, with a curious feeling, let himself be carried away by it. A little Catholic manual of Church history had fallen into his hands that morning. His fingers played with it as it lay on the table, and with the pages of a magazine beside it that contained an article by Father Leadham. No doubt some common element in the two had roused him.---- "The Catholic war with history," he said, "is perennial! History, in fact, is the great rationalist; and the Catholic conscience is scandalised by her. And so we have these pitiful little books--" he laid his hand on the volume beside him--"which simply expunge history, or make it afresh. And we have a piece of Jesuit _apologia_, like this paper of Leadham's--so charming, in a sense, so scholarly! And yet one feels through it a cry of the soul--the Catholic arraignment of history, that she is what she is!" "You'll find it in Newman--often," said the black-bearded man suddenly--and he ran through a list of passages, rapidly, in the student's way. "Ah! Newman!" said Friedland with vivacity. "This morning I read over that sermon of his he delivered to the Oscott Synod, after the re-establishment of the Hierarchy--you remember it, Dalton?--What a flow and thunder in the sentences!--what an elevation in the thought! Who would not rather lament with Newman, than exult with Froude?--But here again, it is history that is the rationalist--not we poor historians! "... Why was England lost to the Church? Because Henry was a villain?--because the Tudor bishops were slaves and poltroons? Does Leadham, or any other rational man really think so?" The little black man nodded. He did not think it worth while to speak. But Friedland went on enlarging, with his hand on his Molly's head--looking into her quiet eyes. "... The fact is, the Catholic, who is in love with his Church, _cannot_ let himself realise truly what the Home of the Renaissance meant: But turn your back on all the Protestant crew--even on Erasmus. Ask only those Catholic witnesses who were at the fountain-head, who saw the truth face to face. And then--ponder a little, what it was that really happened in those forty-five years of Elizabeth....