The Cathedral

er's

nt, who, in spite of her sharpness, never was sure how he would take anything, was a little surprised when he told her this. But then she was never certain what were the secret sprin

luxurious town, but it had for Ronder exactly that combinati

hat--he knew that those two things were the

security and ease, he arranged everything around him to assure his tranquillity. Everything was not as yet arran

ere simply because everything was not, as yet, as he would have it. He would

the chairs, the cushions. It was towards this final adjustment that his power of intrigue always worked. Once everything was adjusted

e else to do the same--indeed, he watched them with geniality and wondered why on earth they didn't. As a small boy at Harrow he had, with an imperturbable smile and a

ds as House-prefect, finally as School-prefe

sycophancy nor apparent falseness. He amused the bored, was confidential wit

ity's sake but his own. He bore no man any grudge, but if any one was in his way he worked ha

others had not done the same. Why do people worry so? was the amused speculation. "Deep emotions are simply not worth while," he decided on his coming of age. He liked women but his sense of humour prevented him from falling in love. He really did understand the sensual habits and desires of men and women but watched them from a

Playing chess with mankind was to him, he declared, simply a means to an end. Perhaps once it had

Finally he believed with La Rochefoucauld that "Pity is a p

hat child not the slightest ill-will, but it must go or, at any rate, its authority must be removed. He did, indeed, like Brandon, and through most of this affair he did not cease to like him, but he, Ronder, would never be comfortable so lo

hysical and spiritual, were involved--well he was sorry. It simply proved h

lish relations with the men who composed the Chapter. He watched, he l

that it had so many hills. He always had breakfast in bed, read the papers there and smoked a cigarette. Every morning

ad a great deal of English, Italian, and Spanish, and had a marvelous memory. He enjoyed, too, erotic literature and had a fine collection of erotic books and prints shut away in a cabinet in his study. He found great fascination in theological books: he laughed at many of them, but kept an open mind--atheist

ver frame, and a little gold clock; all these things had to be in their exactly correct positions. Nothing worried him so much as dust or any kind of disorder. He would sometimes stop in the middle of his work and cross the room, in the soft slippers of brown kid that he always wore in his study, and put some picture straight or move some ornament fro

hours. He could accomplish an astonishing amount of work in a s

ll that she left his schemes alone. If she did not entirely approve of him--and she entirely approved of nobody--she loved him for his good company, his

times even without expressing it. Miss Ronder knew that her nephew liked to hear all the gossip. He collected it, tied it into little packets, and put them away in the litt

y mind. Ronder very quickly discovered that Brandon had had his fingers considerably in the old pie. "And now there'll be a new pie," he said to himself, "baked

on the other hand, the Cathedral had been well looked after--it was rather dependent bodies

fought and generally defeated. "There will be a lot of novel

or lived at the top of Orange Street, in a fine house with a garden, and Foster lived in one o

of the most entertaining dinners at which he had ever been present. It had been here that he had heard for the first time of the Pybus St. Anthony living. Brandon had been present, and he o

ooked the typical clergyman, tall but not too tall, here a smile and there a smile, with his soft

people were vexed with him or no. His idea of Paradise was a place where he could chant eternal services and where everybody liked him. He was a good man, but weak, and therefore driven again and aga

e you?" said Ronder, beaming

the look of Ronder. He always preferred fat men t

l, thank you. I didn't see you. Quite

o see Bent

Bentinck

entinck-Major likely to have anythi

too. It's the High School Go

s, of c

ses with their bow-windows, their pillared porches, their deep-set doors, their gleaming old-fashioned knockers, spoke eloquently of the day when the great Jane's Elizabeths and D'Arcys, Mrs. Morrises and Misses Bates found the world in a tea-cup, when passions were solved by matrimony and ambitions by the pos

; something seemed to tell him that he w

ne might twist what he said into something really unpleasant, but, indeed, he found Ronder s

ervice on Sunday. You must have been complimented often enough before, but a stranger always has the right, I think, to say s

sure to the very tips

do my poor best, but I can't help feeling that there is danger of one's becomi

, but in your case there wasn't a trace of staleness. I do hope you won't think me presumptuous in saying this

he added hurriedly, "Not that he doesn't do his best. He's an excellent fellow. Every one has their faults. It's only that he's

lf. I noticed it once or twice last Sunday. But that's a fault on the

t, apologising for one thing, hoping for another. Before he knew where he was

part,"

e do," cri

"that you'll come and see us soo

"Any day you like. Good-bye. Good- b

, the trim over-green lawn, the neat paths, the trees in their fitting places, all spoke not

ck-Major arms over the front-door. Th

nder asked of a small

ily trees framed in oak, a large china bowl with visiting-cards, and a huge round-faced clock that, even as he waite

early for tea, perhaps. Indeed, my wife is, for

, high windows, an oil painting of the Canon as a smart young curate, a magnificent writing-table, The Spectator

er, crossed his admirable legs, and l

. "This isn't quite the time to call, I'm afr

o," said

u the truth, I don't believe very much in modesty. But there are times w

entinck-Major, wishing to gi

comes fresh into a place like this there are many things that one can't know, a

nck-Major repeated. "If th

able to keep everything as straight as he has done. What I really want from you is some sort of bird's-eye view as to the whole situation. The Chapter, for instance. Of co

nck-Major, looking very wise an

he world, as to how things stand--what really wants doing, who, Beside yourself, are the leading

ourse, of

ve been here that the general point of view is inclined to be a little too local. I believe you

vincial. What else can you expect? They've been here for years. They have not had, most of them, the advantage of mingling with the great world. That I should have had a little more of that opportunity than my fellows here is nothing to my credit, but it does, beyond question, give one a wider view --a wider view. There's our dear Bishop for instance--a saint, if ever there was one. A saint, Ronder, I assure you. But

He was a cautious man

y so, is a splendid character, a man who gives his whole life an

tinck-Major took advantage of

s--how shall I put it?--just a little autocratic. Perhaps that's too strong a word, but he is, some think, a little too inclined to fancy that he runs the Cathedral! That, mind you, is only the opinion of some here, and I don't know tha

y not," sa

rs, and although I've done my own little best, what i

" said

needs courage. Now I may say that I've opposed him on a number of occasions but have had no backing. Brandon, when

fraid?" s

caught up so quickly. He looked at Ronder susp

e excellent things here. In many ways he's admirable. I don't know what I'd have done s

e. I'm sure you're right in everything you've said. If you were to give me a tip t

hat the town took it that the Archdeacon isn't quite where he was. I agree with him entirely in his policy--to keep things as they always have been. That's the only way to save our Church, in my opinion. As soon as they tell me an idea's new, that's enough for me...I'm down on it at once. But what I do think is

you've been so kind I'm sure you won't mind my asking you

d stretching his plump little body back into the arm-chair. "Ask

ived a great many answers. The answers may not have told him overmuch about the thi

ck stru

er g

he said. "You've told me exactly what I

tified. He had, in fact,

tay and have some

I've got a pretty busy afte

ll be so di

come another

rse. Of

his guest into the hall and

time--that I

so very muc

ye. Goo

that his next visit would be quite an

Margaret's Monastery utterly swept away, until not a stone remained, by Henry VIII.'s servants. Saint Margaret's only memory lingers in the Saint Margaret's Hostel for Women at the top of Bodger's Street, and even that has now a worn and desola

ts upon the cobbles make a perpetual clatter here, and its atmosphere is stuffy and begrimed. When the Cathedral chimes ring they echo from house to house, from wall to wall, so that it seems as

she was a pretty blushing girl of twenty. She was now a hideous old woman of eighty, and the house was managed by her married daughter, Mrs. Crumpleton. There were three floors and there should

t a dirty visiting card with Foster's name. When he ceased his climb and the noise of his footsteps fell away there was a great silence. Not a sound could be heard. The bells were not chiming, the rooks were not cawing (it was not as yet their

n away and go when the door suddenly opened, as though by a secret life of its own, and the pale face a

oment?" said Ronder. "

ned the door a little wider, and stood aside. R

n untidy sitting-room into the study. This was a place piled high with books and its only furniture was a deal table and two straw-bottomed chairs. At the table Foster had obviously been

it down. What c

f independence, of character. His capacity for amused admiration that was one of the strongest things in him, was roused to the full. Another thing that he had also by now perceived was that Foster was not that type, by now so familiar to us in the pa

e was happy to think, he must go with the greatest care. He did not smile

gise for coming. I'll tell you frankly that I want your help. At the s

I help you?" as

s stand. Questions may come up, although there's nothing very important this time, I believe. But there may be important things brewing

o spy out the

liberty, I mean, to tell anybody that I've been to see you and to repeat to anybody what I say. It simply is that I don't ca

almost shouting, "they're easy enough to discover. They are simply that everyt

uscript as much as to say

in what way?"

is going to ruin--because it

Foster flung out, "Do you be

"the fact that I'm in

"That's anybody's answer. You

ou mean," said Ronder smil

s, shams, lies, selfishness, idleness. You may be better than they. You may not. I don't know. If you've come here determined to wake them all up and improve things, then I wish

ot made that way. Nor can I honestly believe things to be as bad as you say. But I do intend, with

appreciate that.

me except from the Bishop. To tell you the truth, I had thought you were going to work in with B

king in with anybody. And I don't wish to take sides. There's my

thing that everybody here's forgotten. But you don't sound as

go Brandon's way

o be respected. He's got courage. He cares for the Cathedral. He's a hundred years behind, that's all. He's read nothing, he knows noth

It's apparently an important place, and when there's an appointment

son dead?" said

ery ill, I

sible appointment for that

" repeate

"the author of The New Apocalypse--

e said. "I thought that it would h

r years," he said. "A wonderful man--a great man. He'll wake the place up. We

ng about a man called

his kind of appointment. Well, if he tries to pull that thr

ke your idea of Wistons.

at him with a

lp me about t

id Ronder, "but I think you'll find me

ngs or happiness go, nothing matters. But to have Wistons her

himself to say good-bye. Ronder once more at the top of the