en cleared away and he was remarking for
the second time--the first time he remarked it I had said 'What?',--that
ultimate religious ideas are merely symbols of the actual, not
cognitions of it, and his mother not well knowing what he meant but
afraid it must be something a bishop's son ought not to mean said with
gentle reproach, 'My dear Brosy,' that I took courage to inquire of him
'Why Brosy?'

'It is short for Ambrose,' he answered.

'He was christened after Ambrose,' said his mother,--' one of the Early
Fathers, as no doubt you know.'

But I did not know, because she spoke in German, for the sake, I
suppose, of making things easier for me, and she called the Early
Fathers _fruehzeitige Vaeter_, so how could I know?

'_Fruehzeitige Vaeter?_' I repeated dully; 'Who are they?'

The bishop's wife took the kindest view of it. 'Perhaps you do not have
them in the Lutheran Church,' she said; but she did not speak to me
again at all, turning her back on me quite this time, and wholly
concentrating her attention on the monosyllabic Charlotte.

'My mother,' Ambrose explained in subdued tones, 'meant to say
_Kirchenvaeter_.'

'I am sorry,' said I politely, 'that I was so dull.'

And then he went on with the paragraph--for to me it seemed as though he
spoke always in entire paragraphs instead of sentences--he had been
engaged upon when I interrupted him; and, for my refreshment, I caught
fragments of Mrs. Harvey-Browne's conversation in between.

'I have a message for you, dear Frau Nieberlein,' I heard her say,--'a
message from the bishop.'

'Yes?' said Charlotte, without warmth.

'We had letters from home to-day, and in his he mentions you.'

'Yes?' said Charlotte, ungratefully cold.

'"Tell her," he writes,--"tell her I have been reading her pamphlets."'

'Indeed?' said Charlotte, beginning to warm.

'It is not often that the bishop has time for reading, and it is quite
unusual for him to look at anything written by a woman, so that it is
really an honour he has paid you.'

'Of course it is,' said Charlotte, quite warmly.

'And he is an old man, dear Frau Nieberlein, of ripe experience, and
admirable wisdom, as no doubt you have heard, and I am sure you will
take what he says in good part.'

This sounded ominous, so Charlotte said nothing.

'"Tell her," he writes,--"tell her that I grieve for her."'

There was a pause. Then Charlotte said loftily, 'It is very good of
him.'

'And I can assure you