owever, alone in the garden walk, and we must contrive
to bring him out of it. He was not willing to come forth quite at
once. His cheek was stinging with the weight of Eleanor's fingers,
and he fancied that everyone who looked at him would be able to
see on his face the traces of what he had endured. He stood awhile,
becoming redder and redder with rage. He stood motionless, undecided,
glaring with his eyes, thinking of the pains and penalties of Hades,
and meditating how he might best devote his enemy to the infernal
gods with all the passion of his accustomed eloquence. He longed in
his heart to be preaching at her. 'Twas thus that he was ordinarily
avenged of sinning mortal men and women. Could he at once have
ascended his Sunday rostrum and fulminated at her such denunciations
as his spirit delighted in, his bosom would have been greatly eased.

But how preach to Mr. Thorne's laurels, or how preach indeed at all
in such a vanity fair as this now going on at Ullathorne? And then
he began to feel a righteous disgust at the wickedness of the doings
around him. He had been justly chastised for lending, by his presence,
a sanction to such worldly lures. The gaiety of society, the mirth of
banquets, the laughter of the young, and the eating and drinking of
the elders were, for awhile, without excuse in his sight. What had he
now brought down upon himself by sojourning thus in the tents of the
heathen? He had consorted with idolaters round the altars of Baal, and
therefore a sore punishment had come upon him. He then thought of the
Signora Neroni, and his soul within him was full of sorrow. He had an
inkling--a true inkling--that he was a wicked, sinful man, but it led
him in no right direction; he could admit no charity in his heart.
He felt debasement coming on him, and he longed to shake it off, to
rise up in his stirrup, to mount to high places and great power, that
he might get up into a mighty pulpit and preach to the world a loud
sermon against Mrs. Bold.

There he stood fixed to the gravel for about ten minutes. Fortune
favoured him so far that no prying eyes came to look upon him in his
misery. Then a shudder passed over his whole frame; he collected
himself and slowly wound his way round to the lawn, advancing along
the path and not returning in the direction which Eleanor had taken.
When he reached the tent, he found the bishop standing there in
conversation with the Master of Lazarus. His lordship had come ou