"Unfortunately we cannot apply our Lord's words literally to every-
day exigencies," he murmured suavely--"If we could do so--"

"We SHOULD do so," said the Cardinal with emphasis--"The outside
world may be disinclined to do so,--but we--we who are the
representatives of a God-given faith, are solemnly bound to do so.
And I fear--I very much fear--that it is because in many cases we
have not shown the example expected of us, that heresy and atheism
are so common among the people of the present day."

"Are you a would-be reformer?" asked the Archbishop good-humouredly,
yet not without a touch of satire in his tone,--"If so, you are not
alone--there have already been many!"

"Nay, I desire no reforms," responded the Cardinal, a faint flush
warming the habitual pallor of his cheeks--"I simply wish to
maintain--not alter--the doctrine of our Lord. No reform is
necessary in that,--it is clear, concise, and simple enough for a
child to understand. His command to His disciples was,--'Feed my
sheep'--and I have of late been troubled and perplexed, because it
seems to me that the sheep are not fed;--that despite churches and
teachers and preachers, whole flocks are starving."

The Archbishop moved uneasily in his chair. His habitual violent
spirit of contradiction rose up rebelliously in him, and he longed
to give a sharp answer in confutation of the Cardinal's words, but
there was a touch of the sycophant in his nature despite his
personal pride, and he could not but reflect that Cardinals ranked
above Archbishops, and that Felix Bonpre was in very truth a "prince
of the Church" however much he himself elected to disclaim the