And he thought of the words of St. John the Divine to the Church of Sardis—­

“I know thy works,—­that thou hast A name that thou livest and art dead.

“Be watchful, and strengthen the things that remain, that are ready to die,—­for I have not found thy works perfect before god.  Remember therefore how thou hast received and heard, and hold fast and repent.

“If, therefore, thou shalt not watch, I will come on thee as A thief, and thou shall not know what hour I will come upon thee.

“Thou hast A few names even in Sardis, which have not defiled their garments, and they shall walk with me in white, for they are worthy.

“He that OVERCOMETH, the same shall be clothed in white raiment; and I will not blot his name out of the book of life, but I will confess his name before my father and before his angels.”

Dimmer and duskier grew the long shadows now gathering in the Cathedral,—­two of the twinkling candles near the Virgin’s statue suddenly sank in their sockets with a spluttering noise and guttered out,—­the solemn music of the organ continued, growing softer and softer as it sounded, till it crept through the vastness of the building like a light breeze wafted from the sea, bringing with it suggestions of far flower-islands in the tropics, golden shores kissed by languid foam, and sweet-throated birds singing, and still the Cardinal sat thinking of griefs and cares and inexplicable human perplexities, which were not his own, but which seemed to burden the greater portion of the world.  He drew no comparisons,—­he never considered that, as absolutely as day is day and night is night, his own beautiful and placid life, lived in the faith of God and Christ, was tortured by no such storm-tossed tribulation as that which affected the lives of many others,—­and that the old trite saying, almost despised because so commonplace, namely that “goodness makes happiness,” is as eternally true as that the sun shines in heaven, and that it is only evil which creates misery.  To think of himself in the matter never occurred to