"The world must be growing old," said the Cardinal sadly,--"It must
be losing its vigour,--it is too tired to lift itself to the light;
too weary and worn out to pray. Perhaps the end of all present
things is at hand,--perhaps it is the beginning of the promised 'new
heavens and new earth.'"

Just then the organ-music ceased abruptly, and the Cardinal, waking
from his thoughts as from a trance, rose up slowly and stood for a
moment facing the great High Altar, which at that distance could
only just be discerned among its darkening surroundings by the
little flickering flame of the suspended lamp burning dimly before
the holy Tabernacle, wherein was locked with golden key behind snowy
doors of spotless marble, the sacred and mysterious Host.

"WHEN THE SON OF MAN COMETH, THINK YE HE SHALL FIND FAITH ON EARTH?"

Again that searching question repeated itself in his mind so
distinctly as to be echoed in his ears,--the deep silence around him
seemed waiting expectantly for some reply, and moved by a strange
spirit of exaltation within him, he answered half aloud--

"Yes! Surely He will find faith,--if only in the few! There are 'a
few names, even in Sardis!' In the sorrowful and meek,--in the poor
and patient and downtrodden martyrs of humanity, He will find
faith;--in the very people He died to save He will discover that
most precious and inspiring of all virtues! But in the so-called
wise and brilliant favourites of the world He will not find it,--in
the teachers of the people He will search for it in vain. By the
writers of many books He shall find Himself scorned and rejected,--
in the cheap and spurious philosophy of modern egotists He will see