“Mr Brownrigg, I spoke in heat when I came up to you, and I am sure I did you wrong.  I am certain you had no improper motive in not making me acquainted with your proceedings.  You meant no harm to me.  But you did very wrong towards Mr Templeton.  I will try to show you that when I am well again; but—­”

“But you mustn’t talk more now,” said Dr Duncan.

So I shook hands with Mr Brownrigg, and we parted.  I fear, from what I know of my churchwarden, that he went home with the conviction that he had done perfectly right; and that the parson had made an apology for interfering with a churchwarden who was doing his best to uphold the dignity of Church and State.  But perhaps I may be doing him wrong again.

I went home to a week more of bed, and a lengthened process of recovery, during which many were the kind inquiries made after me by my friends, and amongst them by Mr Templeton.

And here I may as well sketch the result of that strange introduction to the dissenting minister.

After I was tolerably well again, I received a friendly letter from him one day, expostulating with me on the inconsistency of my remaining within the pale of the established church.  The gist of the letter lay in these words:—­

“I confess it perplexes me to understand how to reconcile your Christian and friendly behaviour to one whom most of your brethren would consider as much beneath their notice as inferior to them in social position, with your remaining the minister of a Church in which such enormities as you employed your private influence to counteract in my case, are not only possible, but certainly lawful, and recognized by most of its members as likewise expedient.”

To this I replied:—­

“My dear sir,—­I do not like writing letters, especially on subjects of importance.  There are a thousand chances of misunderstanding.  Whereas, in a personal interview, there is a possibility of controversy being hallowed by communion.  Come and dine with me to-morrow, at any hour convenient to you, and make my apologies to Mrs Templeton for not inviting her with you, on the ground that we want to have a long talk with each other without the distracting influence which even her presence would unavoidably occasion.

“I am,” &c. &c.

He accepted my invitation at once.  During dinner we talked away, not upon indifferent, but upon the most interesting subjects—­connected with the poor, and parish work, and the influence of the higher upon the lower classes of society.  At length we sat down on opposite sides of the fire; and as soon as Mrs Pearson had shut the door, I said,—­

“You ask me, Mr Templeton, in your very kind letter—­” and here I put my hand in my pocket to find it.

“I asked you,” interposed Mr Templeton, “how you could belong to a Church which authorizes things of which you yourself so heartily disapprove.”