his condition in life. He
assured Mrs. Carbuncle that he had never been married. Shortly after
his ordination, which had been effected under the hands of that great
and good man the late Bishop of Jerusalem, he had taken to live with
him a lady who was-- Mrs. Carbuncle did not quite recollect who the
lady was, but remembered that she was connected in some way with a
step-mother of Mr. Emilius who lived in Bohemia. This lady had for
awhile kept house for Mr. Emilius;--but ill-natured things had been
said, and Mr. Emilius, having respect to his cloth, had sent the poor
lady back to Bohemia. The consequence was that he now lived in a
solitude which was absolute, and, as Mr. Emilius added, somewhat
melancholy. All this Mr. Emilius explained very fully, not to Lizzie
herself, but to Mrs. Carbuncle. If Lady Eustace chose to entertain
such a suitor, why should he not come? It was nothing to Mrs.
Carbuncle.

Lizzie laughed when she was told that she might add the reverend
gentleman to the list of her admirers. "Don't you remember," she
said, "how we used to chaff Miss Macnulty about him?"

"I knew better than that," replied Mrs. Carbuncle.

"There is no saying what a man may be after," said Lizzie. "I didn't
know but what he might have thought that Macnulty's connexions would
increase his congregation."

"He's after you, my dear, and your income. He can manage a
congregation for himself."

Lizzie was very civil to him, but it would be unjust to her to say
that she gave him any encouragement. It is quite the proper thing for
a lady to be on intimate, and even on affectionate, terms with her
favourite clergyman, and Lizzie certainly had intercourse with no
clergyman who was a greater favourite with her than Mr. Emilius. She
had a dean for an uncle, and a bishop for an uncle-in-law; but she
was at no pains to hide her contempt for these old fogies of the
Church. "They preach now and then in the cathedral," she said to Mr.
Emilius, "and everybody takes the opportunity of going to sleep." Mr.
Emilius was very much amused at this description of the eloquence of
the dignitaries. It was quite natural to him that people should go to
sleep in church who take no trouble in seeking eloquent preachers.
"Ah," he said, "the Church in England, which is my Church,--the
Church which I love,--is beautiful. She is as a maiden, all glorious
with fine raiment. But alas! she is mute. She does not sing. She has
no melody. But the time cometh in