late, and they had fallen into a sort of
reminiscent conversation which was not without interest to both of them.

"I left Mr. Stenson only an hour ago," the Bishop observed. "He could
talk about nothing but Julian Orden and his wonderful speeches. They say
that at Sheffield and Newcastle the enthusiasm was tremendous, and at
three shipbuilding yards on the Clyde the actual work done for the
week after his visit was nearly as much again. He seems to have that
extraordinary gift of talking straight to the hearts of the men. He
makes them feel."

"Mr. Stenson wrote me about it," Catherine told her companion, with
a little smile. "He said that no dignity that could be thought of or
invented would be an adequate offering to Julian for his services to
the country. For the first time since the war, Labour seems wholly and
entirely, passionately almost, in earnest. Every one of those delegates
went back full of enthusiasm, and with every one of them, Julian, before
he has finished, is going to make a little tour in his own district."

"And after to-morrow," the Bishop remarked with a smile, "I suppose he
will not be alone."

She pressed his arm.

"It is very wonderful to think about," she said quietly. "I am going to
try and be Julian's secretary--whilst we are away, at any rate."

"It isn't often," the Bishop reflected, "that I have the chance of a
few minutes' quiet conversation, on the day before her wedding, with the
woman whom I am going to marry to the man I think most of on earth."

"Give me some good advice," she begged.

The Bishop shook his head.

"You don't need it," he said. "A wife who loves her husband needs very
few words of admonition. There are marriages so often in which one
can see the rocks ahead that one opens one's prayer-book, even, with a
little tremor of fear. But with you and Julian it is different."

"There is nothing that a woman can do for the man whom she loves," she
declared softly, "which I shall not try to do for Julian."

They paced up and down for a few moments in silence. The Bishop's
step was almost buoyant. He seemed to have lost all that weary load
of anxiety which had weighed him down during the last few months.
Catherine, too, in her becoming grey furs, her face flushed with
excitement, had the air of one who has thrown all anxiety to the winds.

"Julian's gift of speech must have surprised even himself," the Bishop
remarked. "Of course, we always knew that 'Paul Fiske', wh