n the tumult of Lady Sunderbund
receded.

CHAPTER THE EIGHTH - THE NEW WORLD

(1)

THAT night the bishop had a temperature of a hundred and a half. The
doctor pronounced him to be in a state of intense mental excitement,
aggravated by some drug. He was a doctor modern and clear-minded enough
to admit that he could not identify the drug. He overruled, every one
overruled, the bishop's declaration that he had done with the church,
that he could never mock God with his episcopal ministrations again,
that he must proceed at once with his resignation. "Don't think of
these things," said the doctor. "Banish them from your mind until your
temperature is down to ninety-eight. Then after a rest you may go into
them."

Lady Ella insisted upon his keeping his room. It was with difficulty
that he got her to admit Whippham, and Whippham was exasperatingly in
order. "You need not trouble about anything now, my lord," he said.
"Everything will keep until you are ready to attend to it. It's well
we're through with Easter. Bishop Buncombe of Eastern Blowdesia
was coming here anyhow. And there is Canon Bliss. There's only two
ordination candidates because of the war. We'll get on swimmingly."

The bishop thought he would like to talk to those two ordination
candidates, but they prevailed upon him not to do so. He lay for the
best part of one night confiding remarkable things to two imaginary
ordination candidates.

He developed a marked liking for Eleanor's company. She was home again
now after a visit to some friends. It was decided that the best thing
to do with him would be to send him away in her charge. A journey abroad
was impossible. France would remind him too dreadfully of the war. His
own mind turned suddenly to the sweet air of Hunstanton. He had gone
there at times to read, in the old Cambridge days. "It is a terribly
ugly place," he said, "but it is wine in the veins."

Lady Ella was doubtful about Zeppelins. Thrice they had been right over
Hunstanton already. They came in by the easy landmark of the Wash.

"It will interest him," said Eleanor, who knew her father better.

(2)

One warm and still and sunny afternoon the bishop found himself looking
out upon the waters of the Wash. He sat where the highest pebble layers
of the beach reached up to a little cliff of sandy earth perhaps a foot
high, and he looked upon sands and sea and sky and saw that they were
beautiful.

He was a little black-gaitered