bound to another, on whose career she had staked all her
happiness. Having thus other interests she evinced to-day the ease of
one who hazards nothing, and there was no sign of that preoccupation with
housewifely contingencies which so often makes the hostess hardly
recognizable as the charming woman who graced a friend's home the day
before. In marrying Swithin Lady Constantine had played her
card,--recklessly, impulsively, ruinously, perhaps; but she had played
it; it could not be withdrawn; and she took this morning's luncheon as an
episode that could result in nothing to her beyond the day's
entertainment.

Hence, by that power of indirectness to accomplish in an hour what
strenuous aiming will not effect in a life-time, she fascinated the
Bishop to an unprecedented degree. A bachelor, he rejoiced in the
commanding period of life that stretches between the time of waning
impulse and the time of incipient dotage, when a woman can reach the male
heart neither by awakening a young man's passion nor an old man's
infatuation. He must be made to admire, or he can be made to do nothing.
Unintentionally that is how Viviette operated on her guest.

Lady Constantine, to external view, was in a position to desire many
things, and of a sort to desire them. She was obviously, by nature,
impulsive to indiscretion. But instead of exhibiting activities to
correspond, recently gratified affection lent to her manner just now a
sweet serenity, a truly Christian contentment, which it puzzled the
learned Bishop exceedingly to find in a warm young widow, and increased
his interest in her every moment. Thus matters stood when the
conversation veered round to the morning's confirmation.

'That was a singularly engaging young man who came up among Mr.
Torkingham's candidates,' said the Bishop to her somewhat abruptly.

But abruptness does not catch a woman without her wit. 'Which one?' she
said innocently.

'That youth with the "corn-coloured" hair, as a poet of the new school
would call it, who sat just at the side of the organ. Do you know who he
is?'

In answering Viviette showed a little nervousness, for the first time
that day.

'O yes. He is the son of an unfortunate gentleman who was formerly
curate here,--a Mr. St. Cleeve.'

'I never saw a handsomer young man in my life,' said the Bishop. Lady
Constantine blushed. 'There was a lack of self-consciousness, too, in
his manner of presenting himself, which very much