Mrs. Warricombe had nothing to say.  Sidwell, finding that Mr Chilvers’ smile now beamed in her direction, replied to him with steady utterance: 

’It isn’t uncommon, I think, nowadays, for doubts to interfere with the course of study for ordination?’

‘Far from uncommon!’ exclaimed the Rector of St. Margaret’s, with almost joyous admission of the fact.  ’Very far from uncommon.  Such students have my profound sympathy.  I know from experience exactly what it means to be overcome in a struggle with the modern spirit.  Happily for myself, I was enabled to recover what for a time I lost.  But charity forbid that I should judge those who think they must needs voyage for ever in sunless gulfs of doubt, or even absolutely deny that the human intellect can be enlightened from above.’

At a loss even to follow this rhetoric, Mrs. Warricombe, who was delighted to welcome the Rev. Bruno, and regarded him as a gleaming pillar of the Church, made haste to introduce a safer topic.  After that, Mr. Chilvers was seen at the house with some frequency.  Not that he paid more attention to the Warricombes than to his other acquaintances.  Relieved by his curate from the uncongenial burden of mere parish affairs, he seemed to regard himself as an apostle at large, whose mission directed him to the households of well-to-do people throughout the city.  His brother clergymen held him in slight esteem.  In private talk with Martin Warricombe, Mr. Lilywhite did not hesitate to call him ‘a mountebank’, and to add other depreciatory remarks.

’My wife tells me—­and I can trust her judgment in such things—­ that his sole object just now is to make a good marriage.  Rather disagreeable stories seem to have followed him from the other side of England.  He makes love to all unmarried women—­never going beyond what is thought permissible, but doing a good deal of mischief, I fancy.  One lady in Exeter—­I won’t mention names—­ has already pulled him up with a direct inquiry as to his intentions; at her house, I imagine, he will no more be seen.’

The genial parson chuckled over his narrative, and Martin, by no means predisposed in the Rev. Bruno’s favour, took care to report these matters to his wife.

‘I don’t believe a word of it!’ exclaimed Mrs. Warricombe.  ’All the clergy are jealous of Mr. Chilvers.’

‘What?  Of his success with ladies?’

’Martin!  It is something new for you to be profane!—­They are jealous of his high reputation.’

‘Rather a serious charge against our respectable friends.’

‘And the stories are all nonsense,’ pursued Mrs. Warricombe.  ’It’s very wrong of Mr. Lilywhite to report such things.  I don’t believe any other clergyman would have done so.’

Martin smiled—­as he had been accustomed to do all through his married life—­and let the discussion rest there.  On the next occasion of Mr. Chilvers being at the house, he observed the reverend man’s behaviour with Sidwell, and was not at all pleased.  Bruno had a way of addressing women which certainly went beyond the ordinary limits of courtesy.  At a little distance, anyone would have concluded that he was doing his best to excite Sidwell’s affectionate interest.  The matter of his discourse might be unobjectionable, but the manner of it was not in good taste.