“Amen, and Amen!” responded the sweet voice of Sir Christopher.  “So may all the enemies of the church perish!  But O, holy father, sad is it to see so much heroism in men, so much resigned fortitude in delicate women, such wonderful courage, such patience wasted, in promoting error.”

“Quam diu Domine!” exclaimed the father.  “The days of man are but as a shadow and a tale that is told.  He cometh out of darkness, and returneth thither again.  But thy years, O Lord, are everlasting, and thy counsels like the great deep.  O, stamp this truth on our hearts, and it shall cure our impatience.  How long Divine Wisdom shall permit the raging waves of this pestilential heresy of the arch-deceiver, the licentious Luther, to beat against His church, threatening as with the jaws of hell to devour her, it is not for man to know; but we do know that they cannot prevail, for she is founded on a rock, and bought with a great ransom, and the Word of God is pledged to her triumph.  But it becomes every true son of Holy Church to have his loins girded, and to let no weakness of the flesh or fainting of the spirit interfere, to delay that hoped-for time when this miserable delusion shall disappear.  Verily, heavy is the task imposed on feeble shoulders; but in the strength of One who can supply strength, will we prevail.”

“Has any information,” inquired Sir Christopher, “been received respecting the new colony to be planted under Lord Baltimore, in Maryland, or promise of assistance from our friends at home?”

“The English Catholics,” answered Father Le Vieux, “are lukewarm.  The air of their foggy isle is tainted.  Not much do I expect from this Cecil, Lord Baltimore.  He is, forsooth, a philosopher—­a man who stands half the time upon his head—­for he is one of them who are puffed up with conceit of worldly knowledge, and who, in contradiction of Holy Scripture, assert, with Galileo Galilei, that this world is a ball which daily turns round.  His company has not arrived, and never may arrive.  Not on the timorous and doubting English Catholics, but on my own brave countrymen and the faithful Spaniards, must we rely for the accomplishment of the heaven-inspired thought of our great founder, the immortal Loyola.”

“Expect you,” inquired Sir Christopher, “to convert these English colonies into dependencies of France or Spain?”

“To you and to me, and every true Catholic, it is of little consequence whether they be French, or Spanish, or English colonies, so they be gathered into the bosom of Mother Church.  Of how little moment are the transitory things of time, our poor distinctions of nationalities, our weak prejudices, our loves and hates, in comparison with eternity and its determinations.  Then, in that other world, there will be neither French, nor English, nor Spanish, but ’the blessed of the Father,’ to enter the kingdom prepared for them; or howling heretics, whose doom is fire unquenchable.”