ording to the vulgar acceptation of the term. He disdained all cant
and clap-trap. He preached Church principles with commanding eloquence,
and he practised them with unceasing devotion. His church was always
open, yet his schools were never neglected; there was a perfect choir,
a staff of disciplined curates, young and ascetic, while sacred sisters,
some of patrician blood, fearless and prepared for martyrdom, were
gliding about all the back slums of his ferocious neighbourhood. How
came the Whigs to give such a church to such a person? There must have
been some mistake. But how came it that all the Whig ladies were among
the most devoted of his congregation? The government whips did not like
it; at such a critical period too, when it was necessary to keep
the Dissenters up to the mark! And there was Lady Montfort and Lady
Roehampton never absent on a Sunday, and their carriages, it was
whispered, were often suspiciously near to St. Rosicrucius on week-days.
Mr. Sidney Wilton too was frequently in Lady Roehampton's pew, and one
day, absolutely my lord himself, who unfortunately was rarely seen at
church--but then, as is well known, critical despatches always arrive on
a Sunday morning--was successfully landed in her pew by Lady Roehampton,
and was very much struck indeed by what he heard. "The fact is," as he
afterwards observed, "I wish we had such a fellow on our bench in the
House of Commons."

About this time also there was another event, which, although not of so
general an interest, much touched the feelings of Endymion, and this was
the marriage of the Earl of Beaumaris with Imogene. It was solemnised in
as private and quiet a manner as possible. Waldershare was the best man,
and there were no bridesmaids. The only other persons invited by Mr.
Rodney, who gave away the bride, were Endymion and Mr. Vigo.

One morning, a few days before the wedding, Sylvia, who had written
to ask Lady Roehampton for an interview, called by appointment in St.
James' Square. Sylvia was received by Lady Roehampton in her boudoir,
and the interview was long. Sylvia, who by nature was composed, and
still more so by art, was pale and nervous when she arrived, so much so
that her demeanour was noticed by the groom of the chambers; but when
she departed, her countenance was flushed and radiant, though it was
obvious that she had been shedding tears. On the morning of the wedding,
Lady Roehampton in her lord's brougham called for Endymion