He glanced at the clock. There were yet three or four minutes. “You have seen the new appointment in Rome, sir,” went on Mr. Francis. Oliver shook his head. He was not particularly interested in Rome just now. “Cardinal Martin is dead--he died on Tuesday--and his place is already filled.” “Indeed, sir?” “Yes--the new man was once a friend of mine--Franklin, his name is--Percy Franklin.” “Eh?” “What is the matter, Mr. Brand? Did you know him?” Oliver was eyeing him darkly, a little pale. “Yes; I knew him,” he said quietly. “At least, I think so.” “He was at Westminster until a month or two ago.” “Yes, yes,” said Oliver, still looking at him. “And you knew him, Mr. Francis?” “I knew him--yes.” “Ah!--well, I should like to have a talk some day about him.” He broke off. It yet wanted a minute to his time. “And that is all?” he asked. “That is all my actual business, sir,” answered the other. “But I hope you will allow me to say how much we all appreciate what you have done, Mr. Brand. I do not think it is possible for any, except ourselves, to understand what the loss of worship means to us. It was very strange at first---” His voice trembled a little, and he stopped. Oliver felt interested, and checked himself in his movement to rise. “Yes, Mr. Francis?” The melancholy brown eyes turned on him full. “It was an illusion, of course, sir--we know that. But I, at any rate, dare to hope that it was not all wasted--all our aspirations and penitence and praise. We mistook our God, but none the less it reached Him--it found its way to the Spirit of the World. It taught us that the individual was nothing, and that He was all. And now---” “Yes, sir,” said the other softly. He was really touched. The sad brown eyes opened full. “And now Mr. Felsenburgh is come.” He swallowed in his throat. “Julian Felsenburgh!” There was a world of sudden passion in his gentle voice, and Oliver’s own heart responded. “I know, sir,” he said; “I know all that you mean.” “Oh! to have a Saviour at last!” cried Francis. “One that can be seen and handled and praised to His Face! It is like a dream--too good to be true!” Oliver glanced at the clock, and rose abruptly, holding out his hand. “Forgive me, sir. I must not stay. You have touched me very deeply.... I will speak to Snowford. Your address is here, I understand?” He pointed to the papers. “Yes, Mr. Brand. There is one more question.” “I must not stay, sir,” said Oliver, shaking his head. “One instant--is it true that this worship will be compulsory?” Oliver bowed as he gathered up his papers. II