But the Bishop was overthrowing the work of ten years with apparently as little consciousness of the ruin he was creating as a boar that has rooted up an ant-heap with his snout.

“Quite so.  Quite so, Mr. Rowley.  I certainly see your point,” the Bishop declared.  “I will do my best to secure a priest, but meanwhile . . . let me see.  I need scarcely say how painful your decision has been, what pain it has caused me.  Let me see, yes, in the circumstances I agree with you that it would be inadvisable to postpone the opening.  I think from every point of view it would be wisest to proceed according to schedule.  Could not this altar or Holy Table be railed off temporarily, I do not say muffled up, but could not some indication be given of the fact that I do not sanction its use?  In that case I should have no objection, indeed on the contrary I should be only too happy for you to carry on with your work either until I can find a temporary substitute or until the Silchester College authorities can appoint a new missioner.  Dear me, this is dreadfully painful for me.”

Father Rowley stared at the Bishop in astonishment.

“You want me to continue?” he asked.  “Really, my lord, you will excuse my plain speaking if I tell you that I am amazed at your point of view.  A moment ago you told me that I must either remove this altar or resign.”

“Pardon me, Mr. Rowley.  I did not mention the word ‘resign.’”

“And now,” the Missioner went on without paying any attention to the interruption.  “You are ready to let me stay at St. Agnes’ until a successor can conveniently be found.  If my teaching is as pernicious as you think, I cannot understand your lordship’s tolerating my officiating for another hour in your diocese.”

“Mr. Rowley, you are introducing into this unhappy affair a great deal of extraneous feeling.  I do not reproach you.  I know that you are labouring under the stress of strong emotion.  I overlook the manner which you have adopted towards me.  I overlook it, Mr. Rowley.  Before we close this interview, which I must once more assure you is as painful for me as for you, I want you to understand how deeply I regret having been forced to take the action I have.  I ask your prayers, Mr. Rowley, and please be sure that you always have and always will have my prayers.  Have you anything more you would like to say?  Do not let me give you the impression from my alluding to the heavy work of entering upon the duties and responsibilities of a new diocese that I desire to hurry you in any way this afternoon.  You will want to catch the 4.10 back to Chatsea I have no doubt.  Too early perhaps for tea.  Good-bye, Mr. Rowley.  Good-bye, Mr. . . .” the Bishop paused and looked inquiringly at Mark.  “Lidderdale, ah, yes,” he said.  “For the moment I forgot.  Good-bye, Mr. Lidderdale.  A simple railing will, I think be sufficient for the altar in question, Mr. Rowley.  I perfectly appreciate your motive in asking the Bishop of Barbadoes to officiate at the opening.  I quite see that you did not wish to commit me to an approval of a ritual which might be more advanced than I might consider proper in my diocese. . . .  Good-bye, good-bye.”