Lady Ella was always pleased to hear her husband praised.  Her colour brightened a little.  “They seem very ordinary views,” she said modestly.

“You share them?” cried Lady Sunderbund.

“But of course,” said Lady Ella.

“Wondyful!” cried Lady Sunderbund.

“Tell me, Lady Sunderbund,” said the bishop, “are you going to alter the outer appearance of the old doctor’s house?” And found that at last he had discovered the saving topic.

“Ha’dly at all,” she said.  “I shall just have it pointed white and do the doa—­I’m not su’ how I shall do the doa.  Whetha I shall do the doa gold or a vehy, vehy ’itch blue.”

For a time she and Lady Ella, to whom these ideas were novel, discussed the animation of grey and sombre towns by house painting.  In such matter Lady Sunderbund had a Russian mind.  “I can’t bea’ g’ey,” she said.  “Not in my su’oundings, not in my k’eed, nowhe’e.”  She turned to the bishop.  “If I had my way I would paint you’ cathed’al inside and out.”

“They used to be painted,” said the bishop.  “I don’t know if you have seen Ely.  There the old painting has been largely restored....”

From that to the end there was no real danger, and at last the bishop found himself alone with his wife again.

“Remarkable person,” he said tentatively.  “I never met any one whose faults were more visible.  I met her at Wimbush House.”

He glanced at his watch.

“What did she mean,” asked Lady Ella abruptly, “by talking of your new views?  And about revelations?”

“She probably misunderstood something I said at the Garstein Fellows’,” he said.  “She has rather a leaping mind.”

He turned to the window, looked at his nails, and appeared to be suddenly reminded of duties elsewhere....

It was chiefly manifest to him that the difficulties in explaining the changes of his outlook to Lady Ella had now increased enormously.

(7)

A day or so after Lady Sunderbund’s arrival in Princhester the bishop had a letter from Likeman.  The old man was manifestly in doubt about the effect of their recent conversation.

“My dear Scrope,” it began.  “I find myself thinking continually about our interview and the difficulties you laid bare so frankly to me.  We touched upon many things in that talk, and I find myself full of afterthoughts, and not perfectly sure either quite of what I said or of what I failed to say.  I feel that in many ways I was not perhaps so clear and convincing as the justice of my case should have made me, and you are one of my own particular little company, you were one of the best workers in that band of good workers, your life and your career are very much my concern.  I know you will forgive me if I still mingle something of the paternal with my fraternal admonitions.  I watched you closely.  I have still my old diaries of the St. Matthew’s days, and I have been looking at them to remind me