d out from the lectern
without comment; though fortunately the readers were as a rule so
imperfectly trained that the most objectionable passages had their
potentiality of mischief minimized. He concluded his indictment by a
reference to a sermon preached by the average clergyman of the Church of
England. This was, usually, he said, either a theological essay founded
upon an obsolete system of theology, or a series of platitudes of
morality delivered by an unpractical man. The first was an insult to
the intelligence of an average man; the second was an insult to the
intelligence of an average schoolgirl.

His summing up of the whole case against the Church was as logical as
it was trenchant. The Church had surely become, he said, like unto the
Giant Pagan in "The Pilgrim's Progress," who, when incapable of doing
mischief, sat mumbling at the mouth of his cave on the roadside. The
Church had become toothless, decrepit either for evil or for good. Its
mouthings of the past had become its mumblings of the present. The
cave at the mouth of which this toothless giant sat was very dark; and
intelligent people went by with a good-natured and tolerant laugh.

This article was published in the _Review_ on Tuesday. Phyllis read it
on the evening of that day. On Wednesday the newspapers were full of
this further development of the theories of the writer, and on Thursday
afternoon the writer paid a visit to Phyllis.

As he entered the drawing room he found himself face to face with
Herbert Courtland, who was in the act of leaving.

CHAPTER XXIV.

SHE WAS A WIFE, AND SHE HAD A LOVER WHO DISAPPOINTED HER.

The prayer of Ella Linton had not been answered. She had prayed,
not that her heart wherewith she loved Herbert Courtland might be
changed--that she knew would be difficult; not that her love for Herbert
Courtland might cease--that she believed to be impossible; but simply
that Herbert Courtland might be kept away from her--that she knew to be
the most sensible course her scheme of imploration could take.

She was well aware of the fact that God had given her strength to run
away from Herbert Courtland, and for that she was sincerely thankful;
she did not pause to analyze her feelings, to ask herself if her thanks
were due to her reflection upon the circumstance of her husband's
return, at the very hour when she had appointed to meet Herbert
Courtland; she only felt that God had been good to her in giving her
sufficient