these people counted on him. It was indeed acutely true, as Likeman
had said, that any sudden breach with his position would be a breach of
faith--so far as they were concerned.

And just then his eye fell upon the epergne, a very old and beautiful
piece of silver, that graced the dinner-table. It had been given him,
together with an episcopal ring, by his curates and choristers at the
Church of the Holy Innocents, when he became bishop of Pinner. When they
gave it him, had any one of them dreamt that some day he might be moved
to strike an ungracious blow at the mother church that had reared them
all?

It was his custom to join the family in the drawing-room after dinner.
To-night he was a little delayed by Whippham, with some trivialities
about next month's confirmations in Pringle and Princhester. When he
came in he found Miriam playing, and playing very beautifully one of
those later sonatas of Beethoven, he could never remember whether it
was Of. 109 or Of. 111, but he knew that he liked it very much; it
was solemn and sombre with phases of indescribable sweetness--while
Clementina, Daphne and Mademoiselle Lafarge went on with their war
knitting and Phoebe and Mr. Blent bent their brows over chess. Eleanor
was reading the evening paper. Lady Ella sat on a high chair by the
coffee things, and he stood in the doorway surveying the peaceful scene
for a moment or so, before he went across the room and sat down on the
couch close to her.

"You look tired," she whispered softly.

"Worries."

"That Chasters case?"

"Things developing out of that. I must tell you later." It would be, he
felt, a good way of breaking the matter to her.

"Is the Chasters case coming on again, Daddy?" asked Eleanor.

He nodded.

"It's a pity," she said.

"What?

"That he can't be left alone."

"It's Sir Reginald Phipps. The Church would be much more tolerant if
it wasn't for the House of Laymen. But they--they feel they must do
something."

He seized the opportunity of the music ceasing to get away from the
subject. "Miriam dear," he asked, raising his voice; "is that 109 or
111? I can never tell."

"That is always 111, Daddy," said Miriam. "It's the other one is 109."
And then evidently feeling that she had been pert: "Would you like me to
play you 109, Daddy?"

"I should love it, my dear." And he leant back and prepared to listen in
such a thorough way that Eleanor would have no chance of discussing the
Chasters' heresi