Charred Wood

delighted to see you again, and

no means in harmony with the peaceful country through which he wandered, was taken unawares. He turned

d retained no pleasant recollections of the dignitary, and, as he shook the extended hand, w

tion tours all this season. Ar

walking, wi

tary went on ahead by train, to 'prepare the way,' as it were. I will send the car back with you. Won't

ou on such pleasant terms." He entered the car and, sinking into its soft cu

ook up the c

uld not have said 'Your Lordship.' The bishops in E

e also. Did I not h

your own kind of Bishops-an Episcopalian-I knew him well and a charming man he was-told me that in England he was 'My Lorded' and 'Your Lordshiped' everywhere, until he had gotten quite used to

that," said Mark. "We w

possibility of it-so long as it stays a possibility only. We Yankees are a friendly lot, but not at all irreverent.

out in words before he weighed the words or the thought. An

manhood into account in

fended by the plain reference to the unp

tainly have been nonplussed about finding the opening for what I desire to say to you. You are now referring to my seemingly unchristian treatment of Monsignor

wrong to ask the question. The aff

atholic-to keep in your mind the idea that a Catholic bishop is cold and heart

r, but he wanted to help the Bi

ry much, my dear Lord-or

ng our ways fast, Mr. Griffin. When we part, I su

ord fo

question. I must get at the answer in a round-about way. Father Murray, or Monsignore Murray, for he is a prelate, was one of my dea

he

s curates and his people at the Cathedral. I expected, as did others, that he would be in the place I occupy to-day."

ishop,

t a few of the younger ones who might make matters worse. You can help Monsignore Murray, if you will. Now, listen well.

hearing it, and there

as no escape. Y

ll

It may be providential that you h

ce to a woman, but I thi

chiefly for Monsignore Murray's sake. He is a different sort of man from the ordinary type. He has few intimate friends because his charity is very wide. You seem to be one of the rare beings he regards with special favor. You like him in return. The combinatio

are thinking of the lady I

l. But I said nothing to Monsignore and had every confidence in him until-well, until one day a member of the Cathedral clergy, unexpectedly entering the rectory library, saw Miss Atheson sitting on the arm of the pries

much surpri

gnore Murray was avoided. Never once did I give in to the full belief that my dear old saint was wrong, so I gently suggested one day that I should like his fullest confidence about

und his

reason? And

him; but he asked for nothing. The scene when he left his work at the cathedral was so distressin

ntle. He could n

was not so very great, but in experience he was far older than I. I was alone in the world, and he was both father and friend to me. When I sent him away, I

ou did

il I went to Sihasset and saw her in the chur

d Bishop, she is

y actions in his regard. I shall have to tell him and then- If there is an explanation, how can I forgive myself? But he cannot be blind. Soon all Sihasset will notice and

. His distress was too deep. Hi

? He is very sensitive. Don't tell him all you know-only intimate gently that there may be some misunderstan

happened to glance at the Bishop's face.

me, in peace. He was the last I should have suspected. I must save him. Help me do it. The Church is supposed to be hard-hearted, but she is forgiving-too forgiving sometimes. My duty is to be stern, and a judg

s treasured a friendship and, in spite of everything, could not pluck it out. Now he had opened that heart to an utter stranger, trusting him as if snatching at every chance to

stery? His half-promised wife? A runaway duchess pledged to another man? A priest's-God! that was too much. Mark clenched his hands to stifle a groan. Then he thought of Father Murray. Good and holy and pure he had seemed to be,

n silent for fifteen minutes." The Bishop's

you consolation. Some day I will tell you. In the meantime, trust me. I see no way now by whi

Mark was driven ba

fore he left the little church to join the priests