Sundays,' she continued, the most melancholy in
the calendar. Mr. Miles Mirabel preached his farewell sermon, in our
temporary chapel upstairs.'

"'And you have not recovered it yet?'

"'We are all heart-broken, Miss Wyvil.'

"This naturally interested me. I asked what sort of sermons Mr. Mirabel
preached. Lady Janeaway said: 'Come up to our room after dinner. The
subject is too distressing to be discussed in public.'

"She began by making me personally acquainted with the reverend
gentleman--that is to say, she showed me the photographic portraits of
him. They were two in number. One only presented his face. The other
exhibited him at full length, adorned in his surplice. Every lady in the
congregation had received the two photographs as a farewell present. 'My
portraits,' Lady Doris remarked, 'are the only complete specimens. The
others have been irretrievably ruined by tears.'

"You will now expect a personal description of this fascinating man.
What the photographs failed to tell me, my friend was so kind as to
complete from the resources of her own experience. Here is the result
presented to the best of my ability.

"He is young--not yet thirty years of age. His complexion is fair; his
features are delicate, his eyes are clear blue. He has pretty hands, and
rings prettier still. And such a voice, and such manners! You will say
there are plenty of pet parsons who answer to this description. Wait a
little--I have kept his chief distinction till the last. His beautiful
light hair flows in profusion over his shoulders; and his glossy beard
waves, at apostolic length, down to the lower buttons of his waistcoat.

"What do you think of the Reverend Miles Mirabel now?

"The life and adventures of our charming young clergyman, bear eloquent
testimony to the saintly patience of his disposition, under trials which
would have overwhelmed an ordinary man. (Lady Doris, please notice,
quotes in this place the language of his admirers; and I report Lady
Doris.)

"He has been clerk in a lawyer's office--unjustly dismissed. He has
given readings from Shakespeare--infamously neglected. He has been
secretary to a promenade concert company--deceived by a penniless
manager. He has been employed in negotiations for making foreign
railways--repudiated by an unprincipled Government. He has been
translator to a publishing house--declared incapable by
envious newspapers and reviews. He has taken refuge in dramatic
criticism--dism