d to marry my daughter or anybody's
daughter. The tactless beast got up steam and proposed for her the day
after I had offered him the living. He had never given so much as a
preliminary screech on the subject, never blown a horn to show what his
horrid intentions were--I only hope that if I had known I should still
have had the moral courage to appoint him. The Archbishop assures me I
should--but I doubt it. I was loudly accused of nepotism, of course.
Your uncle, who died soon afterwards, forgave me in the worst of taste
on his deathbed. I had no means of justifying myself. The Archbishop and
Grenfell and a few other old friends believed. _Why were you not among
those old friends, Wentworth?_"

"I _was_ among them," said Wentworth, meeting the Bishop's sombre eyes.
"You never answered it, so I suppose you never received it, but at the
time I wrote you a long letter assuring you that I for one had not
joined in the cry against you, even though my uncle did. I frankly owned
that, while I regarded the appointment as an ill-considered one, I took
for granted that Mr. Rawlings was suited for the place. I said that I
knew you far too well to suppose even for a moment that you would have
given the post to a man, even if he were your son-in-law, unless he had
been competent to fill it. You never answered the letter, so I suppose
it failed to reach you."

"I received it," said the Bishop slowly. "I felt it to be an
illuminating document, but it did not seem to call for an answer. It was
in itself a response to a tacit appeal."

There was a pause, and then he continued cheerfully. "Rawlings has
proved himself dreadfully competent as you prophesied, and Lucy is very
happy in her new home. I came on from there this morning. My son-in-law,
with the admirable promptitude and economy of time which endeared him to
me as my chaplain, had arranged that every moment of my visit should be
utilised; that I should christen their first child, dedicate a
thank-offering in the shape of a lectern, consecrate the new portion of
the churchyard, open a reading-room, and say a few cordial words at a
drawing-room meeting before I left at mid-day. I told him if he went on
like this he would certainly come to grief and be made a bishop some
day. But he only remarked that he was not solicitous of high
preferment. I think you would like Rawlings if you knew him better. You
and he have a certain amount in common. I must own that I am glad that
it is