ng
a report, which he had no doubt believed to be true, that all the
Germain family, including Lord George, had altogether repudiated the
Dean, whose daughter, according to his story, was left upon her
father's hands because she would not be received at Manor Cross. For
Mr. Groschut had also heard of Jack De Baron, and had been cut to the
soul by the wickedness of the Kappa-kappa. The general iniquity of
Mary's life in London had been heavy on him. Brotherton, upon the
whole, had pardoned the Dean for knocking the Marquis into the
fireplace, having heard something of the true story with more or less
correctness. But the Chaplain's morals were sterner than those of
Brotherton at large, and he was still of opinion that the Dean was a
child of wrath, and poor Mary, therefore, a grandchild. Now, when he
saw the Dean and his son-in-law apparently on friendly terms, the
spirit of righteousness was vexed within him as he acknowledged this to
be another sign that the Dean was escaping from that punishment which
alone could be of service to him in this world. "His Lordship is better
this morning. I hope, my Lord, I have the pleasure of seeing your
Lordship quite well." Then Mr. Groschut passed on.

"I'm not quite sure," said the Dean, as he opened his own door,
"whether any good is ever done by converting a Jew."

"But St. Paul was a converted Jew," said Lord George.

"Well--yes; in those early days Christians were only to be had by
converting Jews or Pagans; and in those days they did actually become
Christians. But the Groschuts are a mistake." Then he called to Mary,
and in a few minutes she was in her husband's arms on the staircase.
The Dean did not follow them, but went into his own room on the ground
floor; and Lord George did not see him again on that day.

Lord George remained with his wife nearly all the afternoon, going out
with her into the town as she did some little shopping, and being seen
with her in the market-place and Close. It must be owned of Mary that
she was proud thus to be seen with him again, and that in buying her
ribbons and gloves she referred to him, smiling as he said this, and
pouting and pretending to differ as he said that, with greater urgency
than she would have done had there been no breach between them. It had
been terrible to her to think that there should be a quarrel,--terrible
to her that the world should think so. There was a gratification to her
in feeling that even the shopkeepers