"After all they said, too, when they were in power themselves, as to
the present Government opposing the cause of religion! They declare
now that Lord De Terrier cannot be very anxious about it, as he had
so many good reasons against it a few weeks ago. Is it not dreadful
that there should be such double-dealing in men in such positions?"

"It is sickening," said Mrs. Grantly. And then there was a pause
between them as each thought of the injury that was done to them.

"But, archdeacon--"

"Well?"

"Could you not give up those small points and shame them into
compliance?"

"Nothing would shame them."

"But would it not be well to try?" The game was so good a one, and
the stake so important, that Mrs. Grantly felt that it would be worth
playing for to the last.

"It is no good."

"But I certainly would suggest it to Lord De Terrier. I am sure the
country would go along with him; at any rate the Church would."

"It is impossible," said the archdeacon. "To tell the truth, it did
occur to me. But some of them down there seemed to think that it
would not do." Mrs. Grantly sat awhile on the sofa, still meditating
in her mind whether there might not yet be some escape from so
terrible a downfall.

"But, archdeacon--"

"I'll go upstairs and dress," said he, in despondency.

"But, archdeacon, surely the present ministry may have a majority on
such a subject as that; I thought they were sure of a majority now."

"No; not sure."

"But at any rate the chances are in their favour? I do hope they'll
do their duty, and exert themselves to keep their members together."
And then the archdeacon told out the whole of the truth.

"Lord De Terrier says that under the present circumstances he will
not bring the matter forward this session at all. So we had better
go back to Plumstead." Mrs. Grantly then felt that there was nothing
further to be said, and it will be proper that the historian should
drop a veil over their sufferings.

CHAPTER XXIV

Magna Est Veritas

It was made known to the reader that in the early part of the winter
Mr. Sowerby had a scheme for retrieving his lost fortunes, and
setting himself right in the world, by marrying that rich heiress,
Miss Dunstable. I fear my friend Sowerby does not, at present, stand
high in the estimation of those who have come on with me thus far in
this narrative. He has been described as a spendthrift and gambler,
and as one scarcely honest in his extravagance