well--don't think lightly of the Church. There's a fine work for
any man of energy in the Church, as you'll find,' he said fervidly.
'Torrents of infidelity to be stemmed, new views of old subjects to be
expounded, truths in spirit to be substituted for truths in the letter
. . . ' He lapsed into reverie with the vision of his career, persuading
himself that it was ardour for Christianity which spurred him on, and not
pride of place. He had shouldered a body of doctrine, and was prepared
to defend it tooth and nail, solely for the honour and glory that
warriors win.

'If the Church is elastic, and stretches to the shape of the time, she'll
last, I suppose,' said Cornelius. 'If not--. Only think, I bought a
copy of Paley's _Evidences_, best edition, broad margins, excellent
preservation, at a bookstall the other day for--ninepence; and I thought
that at this rate Christianity must be in rather a bad way.'

'No, no!' said the other almost, angrily. 'It only shows that such
defences are no longer necessary. Men's eyes can see the truth without
extraneous assistance. Besides, we are in for Christianity, and must
stick to her whether or no. I am just now going right through Pusey's
_Library of the Fathers_.'

'You'll be a bishop, Joshua, before you have done!'

'Ah!' said the other bitterly, shaking his head. 'Perhaps I might have
been--I might have been! But where is my D.D. or LL.D.; and how be a
bishop without that kind of appendage? Archbishop Tillotson was the son
of a Sowerby clothier, but he was sent to Clare College. To hail Oxford
or Cambridge as _alma mater_ is not for me--for us! My God! when I think
of what we should have been--what fair promise has been blighted by that
cursed, worthless--'

'Hush, hush! . . . But I feel it, too, as much as you. I have seen it
more forcibly lately. You would have obtained your degree long before
this time--possibly fellowship--and I should have been on my way to
mine.'

'Don't talk of it,' said the other. 'We must do the best we can.'

They looked out of the window sadly, through the dusty panes, so high up
that only the sky was visible. By degrees the haunting trouble loomed
again, and Cornelius broke the silence with a whisper: 'He has called on
me!'

The living pulses died on Joshua's face, which grew arid as a clinker.
'When was that?' he asked quickly.

'Last week.'

'How did he get here--so many miles?'

'Came by railway. He came to ask fo