hat would come the administration of the
Sacrament to those who had not received it at the early service, for
Trinity Sunday is accredited one of those three days on which, at least,
the faithful member of the Anglican Church shall communicate. Then, the
communion over, the Bishop would hold an Ordination, in consideration of
which he had thoughtfully and thankfully curtailed his eloquence in the
pulpit.

At this ordination Mark Ernshaw, who had already won fame both as an
earnest and utterly self-sacrificing missionary, in the moral and
spiritual wilds of East and South London, and also as a preacher who
could fill any West End Church to suffocation, was to be admitted to
full orders in company with his friend, Vane Maxwell, who was so far
unknown to fame save for the fact that he was locally known as one of
the dwellers in the Retreat among the hills, and, therefore, as one who
had sat at the feet of the far-famed Father Philip, who himself had
to-day made one of his rare appearances in the world, and was occupying
one of the Canons' stalls in the chancel.

All the Clergy at the Retreat were popularly supposed to have "a past"
of some sort, and as Vane had come from there and was also credited with
being young and exceedingly good-looking--some of the lady visitors to
the Retreat had described him as possessing "an almost saintlike beauty,
my dear"--he also was a focus of interest. Moreover, he was known to
have taken a brilliant degree at Oxford, and to have had equally
brilliant worldly prospects which he had suddenly and unaccountably
relinquished to go into the Church.

Thus it came to pass that a very different and much more numerous
congregation witnessed this ceremonial than the one which had taken
place at the same altar rails a little more than a twelvemonth before.

Of course, all the party from the Abbey were present, including Sir
Reginald, who had come down for a few days from town. Enid and her
husband had communicated. It was their first communion since their
marriage. Then they had gone back to their places to await the
ordination.

In one of the front rows of the transept seats there was a tall,
well-dressed girl, very pretty, with dark, deep, serious eyes which, in
the intervals of the service she had several times raised and turned on
Enid and her husband, who were sitting on the same side towards the
front, in the body of the Cathedral. She was the very last person in the
world, saving only,