ccess when
it had once been gained. Such a one was Mr. Quickenham; and he was
a man of whom all his enemies and most of his friends were a little
afraid. Mrs. Fenwick would declare herself to be much in awe of him;
and our Vicar, though he would not admit as much, was always a little
on his guard when the great barrister was with him.

How it had come to pass that Mr. Chamberlaine had not been called
upon to take a part in the Cathedral services during Passion
week cannot here be explained; but it was the fact, that when Mr.
Quickenham arrived at Bullhampton, the Canon was staying at The
Privets. He had come over there early in the week,--as it was
supposed by Mr. Fenwick with some hope of talking his nephew into a
more reasonable state of mind respecting Miss Lowther; but, according
to Mrs. Fenwick's uncharitable views, with the distinct object of
escaping the long church services of the Holy week,--and was to
return to Salisbury on the Saturday. He was, therefore, invited to
meet Mr. Quickenham at dinner on the Thursday. In his own city and
among his own neighbours he would have thought it indiscreet to dine
out in Passion week; but, as he explained to Mr. Fenwick, these
things were very different in a rural parish.

Mr. Quickenham arrived an hour or two before dinner, and was
immediately taken out to see the obnoxious building; while Mrs.
Fenwick, who never would go to see it, described all its horrors to
her sister within the guarded precincts of her own drawing-room.

"It used to be a bit of common land, didn't it?" said Mr. Quickenham.

"I hardly know what is common land," replied the Vicar. "The children
used to play here, and when there was a bit of grass on it some of
the neighbours' cows would get it."

"It was never advertised--to be let on building lease?"

"Oh dear no! Lord Trowbridge never did anything of that sort."

"I dare say not," said the lawyer. "I dare say not." Then he walked
round the plot of ground, pacing it, as though something might be
learned in that way. Then he looked up at the building with his hands
in his pockets, and his head on one side. "Has there been a deed of
gift,--perhaps a peppercorn rent, or something of that kind?" The
Vicar declared that he was altogether ignorant of what had been done
between the agent for the Marquis and the trustees to whom had been
committed the building of the chapel. "I dare say nothing," said Mr.
Quickenham. "They've been in such a hurry to pu