he last time," he said to
himself; "if you'll let me, I'll go with you, Frank;" and so the
little conclave was broken up. The people in Prickett's Lane were
greatly impressed by the aspect of Gerald Wentworth, as he went,
silent and pale, by his brother's side, down the crowded pavement.
They thought it must be a bishop at least who accompanied the Curate
of St Roque's; and the women gathered at a little distance and made
their comments, as he stood waiting for his brother after the service.
"He don't look weakly nor sickly no more nor the clergyman," said one;
"but he smiles at the little uns for all the world like my man smiled
the night he was took away." "Smilin' or not smilin'," said another,
"I don't see as it makes no matter; but I'd give a deal to know what
Elsworthy and them as stands by Elsworthy can say after that." "Maybe,
then, he'd give the poor fatherless children a blessing afore he'd
go," suggested a poor Irish widow, who, having been much under Mr
Wentworth's hands "in her trouble," was not quite sure now what faith
she professed, or at least which Church she belonged to. Such was the
universal sentiment of Prickett's Lane. Meanwhile Gerald stood silent,
and looked with pathetic, speechless eyes at the little crowd. He was
no priest now--he was shorn of the profession which had been his life.
His hope of being able to resign all things for Christ's sake had
failed him. Too wary and politic to maintain in a critical age and
country the old licence of the ages of Faith, even his wife's consent,
could he have obtained it, would not have opened to the convert the
way into the priesthood. A greater trial had been required of him; he
was nothing, a man whose career was over. He stood idly, in a kind of
languor, looking on while the Curate performed the duties of his
office--feeling like a man whom sickness had reduced to the last stage
of life, and for whom no earthly business remained; while, at the same
time, his aspect struck awe, as that of a bishop at the least, to the
imagination of Prickett's Lane.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Mr Morgan did not go home direct from the investigation of the morning;
on the contrary, he paid various visits, and got through a considerable
amount of parish business, before he turned his face towards the
Rectory. On the whole, his feelings were far from being comfortable. He
did not know, certainly, who Mr Wentworth's witness was, but he had an
unpleasant conviction that it w