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Hastily she pulled down her veil, turned away and left him. Malling went the next day to morning and evening service at St. Joseph's. He was not invited to lunch in Onslow Gardens, and he did not see Lady Sophia. On the whole, he was glad of this. He had enough to keep in his mind that day.
But of course if it's anything important, he wouldn't for all the world say no." "It is important." "Then I was to ask you to walk in, sir, please." Chichester's sitting-room was empty when Malling came into it, and the folding-doors between it and the bedroom were shut. Ellen went away, and Malling heard a faint murmur of voices, and then Ellen's footstep retreating down the stairs.
In her eyes all that he does is right. She never says a word, I believe, but she must be suffering the tortures of you know! There's Winnie Rufford coming in! How astonishingly young she looks. Were you at the Huntingham's ball? Well " Lady Mansford twittered no more about the Harding menage. But Malling felt that his visit had not been fruitless.
"In fact, I know he's not going," she abruptly added. "I have an instinct." Malling felt sure that she had considered, perhaps long before he had suggested it, this very project of Mr. Harding's departure for a while for rest, and that she had rejected it. Her words recalled to his mind some other words of her husband, spoken in Mr.
"I will if you wish it." "I shall be in after seven." "Very well." "I dare say you will be surprised," observed Stepton. "I see my bus." Malling left him imperatively waving his arm, and, turning, walked toward Kensington. What were his expectations? He did not know. Stepton had upset his mind. As he went on slowly he strove to regain his mental equilibrium.
"But perhaps the ambition to spur on another successfully? That seems to me the truest, the most legitimate ambition of the woman all men worship in their hearts." Suddenly tears started into her eyes. She was sitting opposite Malling, the tea-table between them. Now she leaned forward across it. By nature she was very sensitive, but she was not a self-conscious, woman.
Malling, aware though he had become of the great strengthening of Chichester, was amazed when he heard him preach. Often it is said of a very fine preacher that he preached as one inspired. Chichester preached as one who knew. Never before had Malling been so impressed with the feeling that he was listening to truth, absolute truth, as he was while he listened to Chichester.
Malling believed it possible that the wills of the two clergymen, in some mysterious and inexplicable way, had mingled during their sittings, and that they had never become completely disentangled. If this were so, the result was a different Harding from the former Harding, and a different Henry Chichester from the former Henry Chichester.
Silence followed. He waited, at first standing. Then he sat down near the piano. Not a sound reached him from the bedroom. On the curate's table lay a book. Malling took it up. The title was "God's Will be Done." The author was a well-known high-church divine, Father Rowton. To him, then, Henry Chichester betook himself for comfort. The piano stood open. On it was music.
You, a clergyman, think that it is good to bolster up truth with lies?" said Malling, with genuine scorn. "I didn't say that." "You implied it, I think." "Perhaps if you had worked among men and women as much as I have you would know how much they need.
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