His father leaned forward.

“Do you mean—­” he began.

“I mean that His Grace is weary of her prophesyings.  It was all very well till she began to meddle with matters of State; but His Grace will have none of that.  I can tell you no more.  On the other hand if Chris thinks he must be a monk, well and good; I do not think so myself; but that is not my affair; but I hope he will not be a monk only because a knavish woman has put out her tongue at him, and repeated what a knavish priest has put into her mouth.  But I suppose he had made up his mind before he asked me.”

“He has made up his mind,” said his father, “and will hold to it unless reason is shown to the contrary; and for myself I think he is right.”

“Very well, then,” said Ralph; and leaned back once more.

The minutes passed away in silence for a while; and then Ralph asked a question or two about his sisters.

“Mary is coming over to hunt to-morrow with her husband,” said Sir James.  “I have told Forrest to be here by nine o’clock.  Shall you come with us?”

Ralph yawned, and sipped his Bordeaux.

“I do not know,” he said, “I suppose so.”

“And Margaret is at Rusper still,” went on the other.  “She will not be here until August.”

“She, too, is thinking of Religion,” put in Lady Torridon impassively.

Ralph looked up lazily.

“Indeed,” he said, “then Mary and I will be the only worldlings.”

“She is very happy with the nuns,” said his father, smiling, “and a worldling can be no more than that; and perhaps not always as much.”

Ralph smiled with one corner of his mouth.

“You are quite right, sir,” he said.

The bell for evening prayers sounded out presently from the turret in the chapel-corner, and the chaplain rose and went out.

“Will you forgive me, sir,” said Ralph, “if I do not come this evening?  I am worn out with travelling.  The stay at Begham was very troublesome.”

“Good-night, then, my son.  I will send Morris to you immediately.”

“Oh, after prayers,” said Ralph.  “I need not deprive God of his prayers too.”

* * * * *

Lady Torridon had gone out silently after the chaplain, and Sir James and Chris walked across the Court together.  Overhead the summer night sky was clear and luminous with stars, and the air still and fragrant.  There were a few lights here and there round the Court, and the tall chapel windows shone dimly above the little cloister.  A link flared steadily on its iron bracket by the door into the hall, and threw waves of flickering ruddy light across the cobble-stones, and the shadow of the tall pump wavered on the further side.

Sir James put his hand tenderly on Chris’ shoulder.

“You must not be angry at Ralph, my son,” he said.  “Remember he does not understand.”

“He should not speak like that,” said Chris fiercely.  “How dare he do so?”