went on, eying Hyacinth doubtfully, 'that you
had lost your employment here. I hope you don't object to my
having mentioned that. I am sure you wouldn't if you had heard how
sympathetically he spoke of you. He assured me that he was most anxious
to help you in any way in his power. He just asked one question about
you.' Hyacinth started. Where had he heard those identical words before?
Oh yes, they were in Miss Goold's letter. Patrick O'Dwyer also had just
asked one question about him. He smiled faintly as the Canon went on:
'"Is he fit, spiritually fit, to be ordained? For it is the desire to
serve God which must animate our work." I said I thought you were. I
told him how you sang in our choir here, and how fond you seemed of our
quiet life, and what a good fellow you are. You see, I did not know then
that I was praising the man who is to be my son-in-law. He asked me to
remind you of a promise he had once made, and to say that he was ready
to fufil it. I understood him to mean that he would recommend you to any
Bishop you like for ordination.'

Hyacinth remained silent. He felt that in surrendering his work for the
_Croppy_ he surrendered also his right to make any choice. He was ready
to be shepherded into any position, like a sheep into a pen. And he
had no particular wish to resist. He saw a simple satisfaction in Mrs.
Beecher's face and a beautiful joy in Marion's eyes. It was impossible
for him to disappoint them. He smiled a response to Mrs. Beecher's
kindly triumph.

'Isn't that splendid! Now you and Marion will be able to be married
quite soon, and I do dislike long engagements. Of course, you will be
very poor at first, but no poorer than we were. And Marion is not afraid
of being poor--are you, dear?'

'That is just what I have been saying to him,' said Marion; 'isn't it,
Hyacinth? Of course I am not afraid. I have always said that if I ever
married I should like to marry a clergyman, and if one does that one is
sure to be poor.'

Evidently there was no doubt in either of their minds that Hyacinth
would accept Dr. Henry's offer. Nor had he any doubt himself. The thing
seemed too inevitable to be anything but right. Only on Canon Beecher's
face there lingered a shadow of uncertainty. Hyacinth saw it, and
relieved his mind at once.

'I shall write to Dr. Henry to-night and thank him. I shall ask him to
try and get me a curacy as soon as possible.'

'Thank you,' said the Canon.

'I think,' added Hyac