whispers of terrible corruption in high places even at Rome itself.
I try not to hear or to think too much, but I cannot help my
burning desire to know more of what passes in the world. It was but
a short year ago that a godly man coming from foreign lands told us
fearful tales of the corruption even of the papal court. O my
father, I fear to whisper it even to thee; but I cannot but ask in
my heart, can the popes be truly apostles? And if not, can we say
that the channel of grace once given to men is open yet for us to
drink from? Ah, pardon me if I err! I will do penance for my evil
thoughts. But where may we find now those four life-giving streams
by which Christ purposed to keep His body, the Church, nourished
and sustained? Prophets there be none, save here and there a spark
of the old fire. Those travelling friars are sometimes holy men;
but, alas! they are bitter foes of the very Church from which they
profess to be sent out, and are oft laid under the papal ban. We
have our pastor priests; but do they feed the flock? O my father,
how can I walk with closed eyes through this world of sin and
strife? If the channels run dry, if the pastors refuse food to the
hungry people, can it be sin if they strive to feed themselves,
even though they be something too ignorant to do it wisely and
well?"

A very grave, thoughtful, and austere look was stamped upon the
face towards which Edred directed his gaze. It was long before he
received any answer, and then it was but a sorrowful one.

"My son, I will not blame thee for these thoughts, albeit they be
charged with peril in these days. It is human nature thus to
question and thus to doubt. We may not blind our eyes, though we
must ever strive to chasten our hearts, that we fall not into the