public opinion. To send Mark away now was to advertise backbiting until
it might become a real scandal. They could not see beyond their own
immediate circle; if all the priests knew he was really a good fellow
they thought that quite enough. They had a horror of a man making
himself talked of outside, but they had no notion of giving him the
chance to right himself with the outside world. It was much better that
he should go away and be forgotten.

Canon Nicholls had always been of opinion that the secular clergy in
England were more hardly treated than the regulars. They were expected
to have the absolute detachment of monks, without the support that a
Religious Order gives to its subjects. They were given the standards of
the cloister in the seminary, and then tumbled out into life in the
world. No one in authority seemed anxious not to discourage a young
secular priest. To be regular and punctual, to avoid rows, and to keep
out of debt were the virtues that naturally appealed to the approval of
a harassed bishop. But a zeal that put a man forward and brought him
into public notice was likely to be troublesome, and such men were
seldom very good at accounts. The type of young man which Mark
resembled, according to the priests who discussed the question, was not
a popular one among them. As a type it had not been found to wash well.

Canon Nicholls was not popular among them for other reasons, but chiefly
because of a biting tongue. He would let his talk flow without tact or
diplomacy on these questions, and often did far more harm than good, in
consequence. He fairly stormed to one or two of his visitors at the
absurdity of hiding a man away because of unjust slander. It was the
very moment in which he ought to be brought forward and supported in
every way. The fact was that the man was to be sacrificed to the
supposed good of the Church, only no one would say so candidly. Whereas,
in reality, by justice to the man the Church would be saved from a
scandal!

Mark was outwardly very calm, but he was changed. His friends said that
his vitality and earnestness were bound to suffer in the struggle for
self-repression. His sermons were becoming mechanical tasks and the
confessional a weariness. He made his protest, as Canon Nicholls wished,
but after the talk with his rector he knew it was useless. He wrapped
himself in silence, even with Father Jack Marny. He began, half
consciously, to be more self-indulgent in detail