“But he that heareth, and doeth not, is like a man that without a foundation built an house upon the earth; against which the stream did beat vehemently, and immediately it fell; and the ruin of that house was great.”

And emphasizing the last line, Manuel closed the book; then at a kindly beckoning gesture from the Cardinal, Aubrey advanced into the room, bowing with deep reverence and honour over the worn old hand the prelate extended.

“My lord Cardinal,” he said without further preface, “you must leave Rome to-night!”

The Cardinal raised his gentle blue eyes in wondering protest.

“By whose order?”

“Surely by your own Master’s will,” said Aubrey with deep earnestness.  “For he would not have you be a victim to treachery!”

“Treachery!” And the Cardinal smiled.  “My son, traitors harm themselves more than those they would betray.  Treachery cannot touch me!”

Aubrey came a step nearer.

“Monsignor, if you do not care for yourself you will care for the boy,” he said in a lower tone, with a glance at Manuel, who had withdrawn, and was now standing at one of the windows, the light of the sunset appearing to brighten itself in his fair hair.  “He will be separated from you!”

At this the Cardinal rose up, his whole form instinct with resolution and dignity.

“They cannot separate us against the boy’s will or mine,” he said.  “Manuel!”

Manuel came to his call, and the Cardinal placed one hand on his shoulder.

“Child,” he said softly, “they threaten to part me from you, if we stay longer here.  Therefore we must leave Rome!”

Manuel looked up with a bright flashing glance of tenderness.

“Yes, dear friend, we must leave Rome!” he said.  “Rome is no place for you—­or for me!”

There was a moment’s silence.  Something in the attitude of the old man and the young boy standing side by side, moved Aubrey deeply; a sense of awe as well as love overwhelmed him at the sight of these two beings, so pure in mind, so gentle of heart, and so widely removed in years and in life,—­the one a priest of the Church, the other a waif of the streets, yet drawn together as it seemed, by the simple spirit of Christ’s teaching, in an almost supernatural bond of union.  Recovering himself presently he said,

“To-night then, Monsignor?”

The Cardinal looked at Manuel, who answered for him.

“Yes, to-night!  We will be ready!  For the days are close upon the time when the birth of Christ was announced to a world that does not yet believe in Him!  It will be well to leave Rome before then!  For the riches of the Pope’s palace have nothing to do with the poor babe born in a manger,—­and the curse of the Vatican would be a discord in the angels’ singing—­’Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men’!”