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 supported behind by a cardinal, the British Legate holding up that of our heroine. The Chief Priestess and the supreme Pontiff would remain in their respective places at the high altar until the procession reached it again.

However, as the day approached, public interest became so keenly excited throughout the Catholic world—special trains and steamers being announced to run from all parts of the Continent—that eventually it was decided to have the procession, not only in the church but a it, from some convenient place of assembly, so that all spectators might witness it. An immense brass band, amalgamated from all the best of the country, was engaged to accompany the procession. The weather, of course, must count for much under the changed programme, and on the night of the 7th there was a heavy gale with torrents of rain, which continued until sunrise; then short smart showers succeeded at intervals, and it looked very doubtful for the outdoor part of the ceremony. But before eleven a.m. the clouds lifted, a lovely day succeeded, and in a very short time a great sea of heads spread over the open space and lined the approach to the Abbey. The families of the twelve vestals, with other privileged persons, had seats within the church, as well as a certain space reserved for them outside, in front of the main porch, so that they could see the procession as it came, and then follow it in to take their seats for the grand vespers.

‘Wonderful days, sir!’ observed the father of one of the vestals to Mr Bristley, who stood near him outside the porch. ‘Who would have believed that you and I should live to see the Roman Church re-enter Westminster Abbey, after so long an exclusion, and in this manner too!’

‘This manner, my dear sir?’ was the reply; ‘but don’t you see that this was the only manner possible? How could the papacy ever have got back the Abbey, how could it ever have kept its archaic head above water at all, except