at her suggestion.

It is important to realise Mark's state of mind, at the time when this
strong, additional trial was to come upon him.

With the full approval of his friend, Canon Nicholls, Mark decided not
to take the decree of banishment from London without remonstrance. He
was not astonished at the result of the talk against him. That his one
great enemy should have poisoned the wells so easily was not very
surprising. He could not help knowing that the very keenness and ardour
of his friends had produced prejudice against him. There was, among the
religious circles in London, a perhaps healthy suspicion of hero worship
for popular preachers, and of any indiscreet zeal. The great Religious
Orders knew how to deal with life, and it was safer to have an
enthusiasm for an Order than for an individual. Seculars were the right
people for daily routine and work among the poor, but for a young
secular priest to become a bright, particular star was unusual and
alarming.

Jealousy is the fault of the best men because it eludes their most
vigilant examinations, and, while their energy is taken up with visible
enemies, it dresses itself in a complete and dignified disguise and
comes out either as discretion or zeal or a love of humility.

Mark saw all this less clearly than did the blind Canon, but he realised
it enough not to be surprised at the quick growth of the seed Molly had
sown in well-prepared ground.

But the blow he did not expect came from his own rector. He went to him,
thinking he would back him up in his efforts to get an explanation of
this sudden order, and he was told, between pinches of snuff, that he
had much better do as he was bid without making a fuss, and that he was
being sent to an excellent berth, which was exactly what he needed. The
rector was sorry to lose him certainly, but he thought it was the best
possible arrangement for himself. There was something of grunts and
sniffs between the short phrases that did not soften them. Mark became
speechless with hurt feeling.

It became clearly evident to Canon Nicholls that the rector and one or
two of the older priests who had wind of the matter could not see why
there should be any fuss about it. Young Molyneux was under no cloud;
why should he behave as if it were a disgrace to be chaplain to poor old
Lord Lofton? Was he crying out because London would be in such a bad way
without him? What the Canon could not get them to see was the effect on