covering
and attacking his adversary's weak points; so, not judging the present a
fitting occasion to risk a fall, the bishop smoothed away an incipient
frown, and blandly smiling, moved on, followed by his chaplain. Graham
looked grimly after this modern Cardinal Wolsey.

'I have never,' soliloquised the sceptic, 'I have never known a man
without his skeleton. I wonder if you have one, my lord. You look
cheerful, you seem thoroughly happy; but you are too fortunate. If you
have not a skeleton now, I feel convinced you will have to build a
cupboard for one shortly. You thank blind fortune under the alias of
God? Well! well! we shall see the result of your thanks. Wolsey!
Napoleon! Bismarck! they all fell when most prosperous. Hum! hum! hum!'

Dr Graham had no reason to make this speech, beyond his belief--founded
upon experience--that calms are always succeeded by storms. At present
the bishop stood under a serene sky; and in no quarter could Graham
descry the gathering of the tempest he prophesied. But for all that he
had a premonition that evil days were at hand; and, sceptic as he was,
he could not shake off the uneasy feeling. His mother had been a
Highland woman, and the Celt is said to be gifted with second sight.
Perhaps Graham inherited the maternal gift of forecasting the future,
for he glanced ominously at the stately form of his host, and shook his
head. He thought the bishop was too confident of continuous sunshine.

In the meantime, Dr Pendle, quite free from such forebodings,
unfortunately came within speaking distance of Mrs Pansey, who, in her
bell of St Paul's voice, was talking to a group of meek listeners. Daisy
Norsham had long ago seized upon Gabriel Pendle, and was chatting with
him on the edge of the circle, quite heedless of her chaperon's
monologue. When Mrs Pansey saw the bishop she swooped down on him
before he could get out of the way, which he would have done had
courtesy permitted it. Mrs Pansey was the one person Dr Pendle dreaded,
and if the late archdeacon had been alive he would have encouraged the
missionary project with all his heart. 'To every man his own fear.' Mrs
Pansey was the bishop's.

'Bishop!' cried the lady, in her most impressive archidiaconal manner,
'about that public-house, The Derby Winner, it must be removed.'

Cargrim, who was deferentially smiling at his lordship's elbow, cast a
swift glance at Gabriel when he heard Mrs Pansey's remark. He had a
belief--founded