“I hear a sound,” exclaimed Lady St. Jerome. “Yes! the cardinal has come. Let us greet him.” But as they were approaching the saloon the cardinal met them, and waved them back. “We will return,” he said, “to our friends immediately, but I want to say one word to you both.” He made them sit down. “I am a little restless,” he said, and stood before the fire. “Something interesting has happened; nothing to do with public affairs. Do not pitch your expectations too high—but still of importance, and certainly of great interest—at least to me. I have seen my child—my ward.” “Indeed an event!” said Lady St. Jerome, evidently much interested. “And what is he like?” inquired the monsignore. “All that one could wish. Extremely good-looking, highly bred, and most ingenuous; a considerable intelligence, and not untrained; but the most absolutely unaffected person I ever encountered.” “Ah! if he had been trained by your eminence,” sighed Lady St. Jerome. “Is it too late?” “‘Tis an immense position,” murmured Berwick. “What good might he not do?” said Lady St. Jerome; “and if he be so ingenuous, it seems impossible that he can resist the truth.” “Your ladyship is a sort of cousin of his,” said the cardinal, musingly. “Yes; but very remote. I dare say he would not acknowledge the tie. But we are kin; we have the same blood in our veins.” “You should make his acquaintance,” said the cardinal. “I more than desire it. I hear he has been terribly neglected, brought up among the most dreadful people, entirely infidels and fanatics.” “He has been nearly two years at Oxford,” said the cardinal. “That may have mitigated the evil.” “Ah! but you, my lord cardinal, you must interfere. Now that you at last know him, you must undertake the great task; you must save him.” “We must all pray, as I pray every morn and every night,” said the cardinal, “for the conversion of England.” “Or the conquest,” murmured Berwick. CHAPTER 10 As the cardinal was regaining his carriage on leaving Mrs. Giles’s party, there was, about the entrance of the house, the usual gathering under such circumstances; some zealous linkboys marvellously familiar with London life, and some midnight loungers, who thus take their humble share of the social excitement, and their happy chance of becoming acquainted with some of the notables of the wondrous world of which they form the base. This little gathering, ranged at the instant into stricter order by the police to facilitate the passage of his eminence, prevented the progress of a passenger, who exclaimed in an audible, but not noisy voice, as if, he were ejaculating to himself, “A bas les pretres!”