<h3>XXXI</h3>
<p>Swithin’s midnight excursion to the tower in the cause
of science led him to oversleep himself, and when the brother and
sister met at breakfast in the morning he did not appear.</p>
<p>‘Don’t disturb him,—don’t disturb
him,’ said Louis laconically. ‘Hullo, Viviette,
what are you reading there that makes you flame up so?’</p>
<p>She was glancing over a letter that she had just opened, and
at his words looked up with misgiving.</p>
<p>The incident of the previous night left her in great doubt as
to what her bearing towards him ought to be. She had made
no show of resenting his conduct at the time, from a momentary
supposition that he must know all her secret; and afterwards,
finding that he did not know it, it seemed too late to affect
indignation at his suspicions. So she preserved a quiet
neutrality. Even had she resolved on an artificial part she
might have forgotten to play it at this instant, the letter being
of a kind to banish previous considerations.</p>
<p>‘It is a letter from Bishop Helmsdale,’ she
faltered.</p>
<p>‘Well done! I hope for your sake it is an
offer.’</p>
<p>‘That’s just what it is.’</p>
<p>‘No,—surely?’ said Louis, beginning a laugh
of surprise.</p>
<p>‘Yes,’ she returned indifferently.
‘You can read it, if you like.’</p>
<p>‘I don’t wish to pry into a communication of that
sort.’</p>
<p>‘Oh, you may read it,’ she said, tossing the
letter across to him.</p>
<p>Louis thereupon read as under:—</p>
<blockquote><p style="text-align: right">‘<span class="smcap">The Palace</span>, <span class="smcap">Melchester</span>,<br/>
<i>June</i> 28, 18--.</p>
<p>‘<span class="smcap">My dear Lady
Constantine</span>,—During the two or three weeks that have
elapsed since I experienced the great pleasure of renewing my
acquaintance with you, the varied agitation of my feelings has
clearly proved that my only course is to address you by letter,
and at once. Whether the subject of my communication be
acceptable to you or not, I can at least assure you that to
suppress it would be far less natural, and upon the whole less
advisable, than to speak out frankly, even if afterwards I hold
my peace for ever.</p>
<p>‘The great change in my experience during the past year
or two—the change, that is, which has resulted from my
advancement to a bishopric—has frequently suggested to me,
of late, that a discontinuance in my domestic life of the
solitude of past years was a question which ought to be seriously
contemplated. But whether I should ever have contemplated
it without the great good fortune of my meeting with you is
doubtful. However, the thing has been considered at last,
and without more ado I candidly ask if you would be willing to
give up your life at Welland, and relieve my household loneliness
here by becoming my wife.</p>
<p>‘I am far from desiring to force a hurried decision on
your part, and will wait your good pleasure patiently, should you
feel any uncertainty at the moment as to the step. I am
quite disqualified, by habits and experience, for the delightful
procedure of urging my suit in the ardent terms which would be so
appropriate towards such a lady, and so expressive of my inmost
feeling. In truth, a prosy cleric of five-and-forty wants
encouragement to make him eloquent. Of this, however, I can
assure you: that if admiration, esteem, and devotion can
compensate in any way for the lack of those qualities which might
be found to burn with more outward brightness in a younger man,
those it is in my power to bestow for the term of my earthly
life. Your steady adherence to church principles and your
interest in ecclesiastical polity (as was shown by your bright
questioning on those subjects during our morning walk round your
grounds) have indicated strongly to me the grace and
appropriateness with which you would fill the position of a
bishop’s wife, and how greatly you would add to his
reputation, should you be disposed to honour him with your
hand. Formerly there have been times when I was of
opinion—and you will rightly appreciate my candour in
owning it—that a wife was an impediment to a bishop’s
due activities; but constant observation has convinced me that,
far from this being the truth, a meet consort infuses life into
episcopal influence and teaching.</p>
<p>‘Should you reply in the affirmative I will at once come
to see you, and with your permission will, among other things,
show you a few plain, practical rules which I have interested
myself in drawing up for our future guidance. Should you
refuse to change your condition on my account, your decision
will, as I need hardly say, be a great blow to me. In any
event, I could not do less than I have done, after giving the
subject my full consideration. Even if there be a slight
deficiency of warmth on your part, my earnest hope is that a mind
comprehensive as yours will perceive the immense power for good
that you might exercise in the position in which a union with me
would place you, and allow that perception to weigh in
determining your answer.</p>
<p>‘I remain, my dear Lady Constantine, with the highest
respect and affection,—Yours always,</p>
<p style="text-align: right">‘<span class="smcap">C.
Melchester</span>.’</p>
</blockquote>
<p>‘Well, you will not have the foolhardiness to decline,
now that the question has actually been popped, I should
hope,’ said Louis, when he had done reading.</p>
<p>‘Certainly I shall,’ she replied.</p>
<p>‘You will really be such a flat, Viviette?’</p>
<p>‘You speak without much compliment. I have not the
least idea of accepting him.’</p>
<p>‘Surely you will not let your infatuation for that young
fellow carry you so far, after my acquainting you with the shady
side of his character? You call yourself a religious woman,
say your prayers out loud, follow up the revived methods in
church practice, and what not; and yet you can think with
partiality of a person who, far from having any religion in him,
breaks the most elementary commandments in the
decalogue.’</p>
<p>‘I cannot agree with you,’ she said, turning her
face askance, for she knew not how much of her brother’s
language was sincere, and how much assumed, the extent of his
discoveries with regard to her secret ties being a mystery.
At moments she was disposed to declare the whole truth, and have
done with it. But she hesitated, and left the words unsaid;
and Louis continued his breakfast in silence.</p>
<p>When he had finished, and she had eaten little or nothing, he
asked once more, ‘How do you intend to answer that
letter? Here you are, the poorest woman in the county,
abandoned by people who used to be glad to know you, and leading
a life as dismal and dreary as a nun’s, when an opportunity
is offered you of leaping at once into a leading position in this
part of England. Bishops are given to hospitality; you
would be welcomed everywhere. In short, your answer must be
yes.’</p>
<p>‘And yet it will be no,’ she said, in a low
voice. She had at length learnt, from the tone of her
brother’s latter remarks, that at any rate he had no
knowledge of her actual marriage, whatever indirect ties he might
suspect her guilty of.</p>
<p>Louis could restrain himself no longer at her answer.
‘Then conduct your affairs your own way. I know you
to be leading a life that won’t bear investigation, and
I’m hanged if I’ll stay here any longer!’</p>
<p>Saying which, Glanville jerked back his chair, and strode out
of the room. In less than a quarter of an hour, and before
she had moved a step from the table, she heard him leaving the
house.</p>
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