'I think he is much devoted to Lady Constantine, and I am glad of it.

Aren't you?' 'O yes--very,' said Swithin, wondering if Tabitha had seen the tender

little salutes between Lady Constantine and himself.

'I don't think she cares much for him,' added Tabitha judicially. 'Or,

even if she does, she could be got away from him in no time by a younger

man.' 'Pooh, that's nothing,' said Swithin impatiently.

Tabitha then remarked that her blower had not come to time, and that she

must go to look for him; upon which she descended the stairs, and left

Swithin again alone.

A few minutes later the Bishop suddenly looked at his watch, Lady

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Constantine having withdrawn towards the house. Apparently apologizing

to Louis the Bishop came down the terrace, and through the door into the

churchyard. Swithin hastened downstairs and joined him in the path under

the sunny wall of the aisle.

Their glances met, and it was with some consternation that Swithin beheld

the change that a few short minutes had wrought in that episcopal

countenance. On the lawn with Lady Constantine the rays of an almost

perpetual smile had brightened his dark aspect like flowers in a shady

place: now the smile was gone as completely as yesterday; the lines of

his face were firm; his dark eyes and whiskers were overspread with

gravity; and, as he gazed upon Swithin from the repose of his stable

figure it was like an evangelized King of Spades come to have it out with

the Knave of Hearts.

* * * * *

To return for a moment to Louis Glanville. He had been somewhat struck

with the abruptness of the Bishop's departure, and more particularly by

the circumstance that he had gone away by the private door into the

churchyard instead of by the regular exit on the other side. True, great

men were known to suffer from absence of mind, and Bishop Helmsdale,

having a dim sense that he had entered by that door yesterday, might have

unconsciously turned thitherward now. Louis, upon the whole, thought

little of the matter, and being now left quite alone on the lawn, he

seated himself in an arbour and began smoking.

The arbour was situated against the churchyard wall. The atmosphere was

as still as the air of a hot-house; only fourteen inches of brickwork

divided Louis from the scene of the Bishop's interview with St. Cleeve,

and as voices on the lawn had been audible to Swithin in the churchyard,

voices in the churchyard could be heard without difficulty from that

close corner of the lawn. No sooner had Louis lit a cigar than the

dialogue began.




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