he answered. "My friend, you forget the Statutes of Mortmain. They
positively forbid you to carry out the intention which you have just
expressed."

Romayne dismissed this appeal to the law irritably, by waving his hand.
"The Statutes of Mortmain," he rejoined, "can't prevent my bequeathing
my property to an individual. I shall leave Vange Abbey to You. Now,
Father Benwell! have I got the better of you at last?"

With Christian humility the Jesuit accepted the defeat, for which he had
paved the way from the outset of the interview. A t the same time,
he shuffled all personal responsibility off his own shoulders. He had
gained the victory for the Church--without (to do him justice) thinking
of himself.

"Your generosity has conquered me," he said. "But I must be allowed to
clear myself of even the suspicion of an interested motive. On the day
when your will is executed, I shall write to the General of our Order at
Rome, leaving my inheritance to him. This proceeding will be followed by
a deed, in due form, conveying the property to the Church. You have
no objection to my taking that course? No? My dear Romayne, words are
useless at such a time as this. My acts shall speak for me. I am too
agitated to say more. Let us talk of something else--let us have some
wine."

He filled the glasses; he offered more biscuits.--he was really, and
even perceptibly, agitated by the victory that he had won. But one
last necessity now confronted him--the necessity of placing a serious
obstacle in the way of any future change of purpose on the part of
Romayne. As to the choice of that obstacle, Father Benwell's mind had