“Well, we will see about that. At any rate, we know your address, and can let you know.... By the way, Father Franklin, are you going back to Westminster to-night?” He bowed. “Ah! I hope you will get through. You will find London very much excited. Perhaps you heard---” “Felsenburgh?” said Percy. “Yes. Julian Felsenburgh,” said the girl softly, again with that strange excitement suddenly alight in her eyes. “Julian Felsenburgh,” she repeated. “He is there, you know. He will stay in England for the present.” Again Percy was conscious of that slight touch of fear at the mention of that name. “I understand there is to be peace,” he said. The girl rose and her husband with her. “Yes,” she said, almost compassionately, “there is to be peace. Peace at last.” (She moved half a step towards him, and her face glowed like a rose of fire. Her hand rose a little.) “Go back to London, Father Franklin, and use your eyes. You will see him, I dare say, and you will see more besides.” (Her voice began to vibrate.) “And you will understand, perhaps, why we have treated you like this--why we are no longer afraid of you--why we are willing that my mother should do as she pleases. Oh! you will understand, Father Franklin if not to-night, to-morrow; or if not to-morrow, at least in a very short time.” “Mabel!” cried her husband. The girl wheeled, and threw her arms round him, and kissed him on the mouth. “Oh! I am not ashamed, Oliver, my dear. Let him go and see for himself. Good-night, Father Franklin.” As he went towards the door, hearing the ping of the bell that some one touched in the room behind him, he turned once more, dazed and bewildered; and there were the two, husband and wife, standing in the soft, sunny light, as if transfigured. The girl had her arm round the man’s shoulder, and stood upright and radiant as a pillar of fire; and even on the man’s face there was no anger now--nothing but an almost supernatural pride and confidence. They were both smiling. Then Percy passed out into the soft, summer night. II Percy understood nothing except that he was afraid, as he sat in the crowded car that whirled him up to London. He scarcely even heard the talk round him, although it was loud and continuous; and what he heard meant little to him. He understood only that there had been strange scenes, that London was said to have gone suddenly mad, that Felsenburgh had spoken that night in Paul’s House. He was afraid at the way in which he had been treated, and he asked himself dully again and again what it was that had inspired that treatment; it seemed that he had been in the presence of the supernatural; he was conscious of shivering a little, and of the symptoms of an intolerable sleepiness. It was scarcely strange to him that he should be sitting in a crowded car at two o’clock of a summer dawn.