ment were falling on John Storm at every
step.

All Saints' was a plain, dark structure with a courtyard in front. The
bells were ringing, and a line of carriages was drawing up at the portico
as at the entrance to a theatre, discharging their occupants and passing
on. Vergers in yellow and buff, with knee-breeches, silk stockings, and
powdered wigs, were receiving the congregation at the doors.

"Let us go in by the west door--I should like you to see the screen to
advantage," said Mr. Golightly.

The inside of the church was gorgeous. As far up as the clerestory every
wall was frescoed, and every timber of the roof was gilded. At the
chancel end there was a wrought-iron screen of delicate tracery, and the
altar was laden with gold candlesticks. Above the altar and at either
side of it were stained glass windows. The morning sun was shining
through them and filling the chancel with warm splashes of light. Ladies
in beautiful spring dresses were following the vergers up the aisles.

"This way," the curate whispered, and John Storm entered the sacristy by
a low doorway like the auditorium entrance to a stage. There he met some
six others of his fellow-curates. They nodded to him and went on
arranging their surplices. The choir were gathering in their own
quarters, where the violins were tuning up and the choir boys were
laughing and behaving after their kind.

The bell slackened and stopped, and the organ began to play. When all
were ready they stepped into a long corridor and formed in line with
their faces to the chancel and their backs to a little door, at which a
verger in blue stood guard.

"The canon's room," whispered Mr. Golightly.

A prayer was said by some one, the choir sang the response, and then they
walked in procession to their places in the chancel, the choir boys
first, the canon last. Seen through the tracery of the screen, the
congregation appeared to fill every sitting in the church with a blaze of
light and colour, and the atmosphere was laden with delicate perfume.

The service was choral. An anthem was sung at the close of the sermon,
the collection being made during the hymn before it. The professional
singer looked like any other chorister in his surplice, save for his
swarthy face and heavy mustache.

The canon preached. He wore his doctor's hood of scarlet cloth. His
sermon was eloquent and literary, and it was delivered with elocutionary
power. There were many references to great wri