and to hope that Dr. Newman might consent to be made a
Protonotary
Apostolic. That was all the satisfaction that Father St. John was
to obtain from his visit to Rome. A few weeks later, the scheme
of
the Oxford Oratory was finally quashed.

When all was over, Manning thought that the time had come for a
reconciliation. He made advances through a common friend; what
had he done, he asked, to offend Dr. Newman? Letters passed, and,
naturally enough, they only widened the breach. Newman was not
the man to be polite. 'I can only repeat,' he wrote at last,
'what I said when you last heard from me. I do not know whether I
am on my head or my heels when I have active relations with you.
In spite of my friendly feelings, this is the judgment of my
intellect.' 'Meanwhile,' he concluded, 'I propose to say seven
masses for your intention amid the difficulties and anxieties of
your ecclesiastical duties.' And Manning could only return the
compliment.

At about this time, the Curate of Littlemore had a singular
experience. As he was passing by the Church he noticed an old
man, very poorly dressed in an old grey coat with the collar
turned up, leaning over the lych gate, in floods of tears. He was
apparently in great trouble, and his hat was pulled down over his
eyes as if he wished to hide his features. For a moment,
however, he turned towards the Curate, who was suddenly struck by
something familiar in the face. Could it be--? A photograph hung
over the Curate's mantelpiece of the man who had made Littlemore
famous by his sojourn there more than twenty years ago-- he had