ually applies to Papal Rome. As for Mrs
Trumbly herself, the archdeacon's widow said the whole Commination
Service over _her_ with heartfelt and prayerful earnestness.

Bell flushed and whitened, and stammered and trembled, when she beheld
the imposing figure of the bishop standing in the dark, narrow passage.
To her he was a far-removed deity throned upon inaccessible heights,
awesome and powerful, to be propitiated with humbleness and prayer; and
the mere sight of him in her immediate neighbourhood brought her heart
into her mouth. For once she lost her nonchalant demeanour, her free and
easy speech, and stood nervously silent before him with hanging head and
reddened cheeks. Fortunately for her she was dressed that day in a quiet
and well-fitting frock of blue serge, and wore less than her usual
number of jingling brassy ornaments. The bishop, who had an eye for a
comely figure and a pretty face, approved of her looks; but he was
clever enough to see that, however painted and shaped, she was made of
very common clay, and would never be able to take her place amongst the
porcelain maidens to whom Gabriel was accustomed. Still she seemed
modest and shy as a maid should be, and Dr Pendle looked on her kindly
and encouragingly.

'You are Miss Mosk, are you not?' he asked, raising his hat.

'Yes, my--my lord,' faltered Bell, not daring to raise her eyes above
the bishop's gaiters. 'I am Bell Mosk.'

'In that case I should like some conversation with you. Can you take me
to a more private place?'

'The little parlour, my lord; this way, please,' and Bell, reassured by
her visitor's kindly manner, conducted him into her father's private
snuggery at the back of the bar. Here she placed a chair for the bishop,
and waited anxiously to hear if he came to scold or praise. Dr Pendle
came to the point at once.

'I presume you know who I am, Miss Mosk?' he said quietly.

'Oh, yes, sir; the Bishop of Beorminster.'

'Quite so; but I am here less as the bishop than as Gabriel's father.'

'Yes,' whispered Bell, and stole a frightened look at the speaker's
face.

'There is no need to be alarmed,' said Dr Pendle, encouragingly. 'I do
not come here to scold you.'

'I hope not, my lord!' said Miss Mosk, recovering herself a trifle, 'as
I have done nothing to be scolded for. If I am in love with Gabriel, and
he with me, 'tis only human nature, and as such can't be run down.'

'That entirely depends upon the point of view which