The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-03-10
CHAPTER Y.

his nose with the corner of the Manual,
that the vicar had never introduced au-
ricular confession. 1t may be in accord
ance with the practice of the Primitive
Church, but-one does meet with such very
curious cases. There's nothing the least
like it in the Manual"
He opened the book and searched its
pages over again.
'It's poor Manual" said Mr.. Taylor,
throwing it down and putting his hands in
the pockets of his cassock. "Poor girl!
She was quite distressed, too. l must have
something to tell her when she comes next
week"
Mr.. Taylor had, in face of the difficulty
taken time to consider, and the penitent
had gone away in suspense. To represent
ones self as a dressmaker-well, there was
nothing very outrageous in that; it was
unbecoming, but venial, TO tell sundry BIS
by way of supporting the assumed charac-
ter-the Manual was equal to that; but the
rest of the disclosure was the crux. Wrong,
no doubt, was the conduct-but how wrong?
That made all the difference. And then
there followed another question: What
ought to be done? She had asked for ad-
vice about that also and although such
he felt that he ought not to refuse it. AL
together he was puzzled. At eight-and-
twenty one cannot be ready for everything;
yet she had implOred him to consult no.
body else and decide for her himself. "I've
such a trust in you" she had said, wiping
away an incipient teardrop; and, al
though Mr.. Taylor told her the individ-
ual was nothing and the office everything,
he had been rather gratiied. Thinking
that turn in the open air might clear his
brain and enable him better to grappIe
with this very thorny question, he changed
his cassock for a long-tailed coat put on
his wide-awake, and, leaving the pre-
cincts of St Edward ConfesSor, struck
across Park Lane and along the Row. He
passed several people he knew, both
men and women, Mrs. Marland was
riding, attended by two young men,
and, a little further on, he saw old Lord
Thrapston lettering along on his stick
Lord Thrapson hated a parson, and
scowled at poor Mr.. Taylor as he went by.
Mr.. Taylor shrank from meeting his eye
and hurried along till he reached the Ser
pentine, where he stood still for a few
minutes drinking in the fresh breeze. But
the breeze could not blow his puzzle out of
his brain. Was it a crime or merely an
escapade? What had she said to the young
man? What had her feelings been or be-
come toward the young man? Moreover,
what had she made the young mans feel
ings to be for her? When he came to think
it over Mr.. Taylor discovered with a shock
OF surprise that on all these distinctly
material points the confession had been
singularly Incomplete. He was ashamed
of this, for of course it was his business to
make the confession full and exhaustive
He could only plead that Mt the moment it
had seemed thorough and canadian I'M
reserved revelation. Yet those points did,
as a fact, remain obscure.
AT wish l-rarx- E+t1a
human nature" sighed Mr.. Taylor. He
was thinking of one division of human
nature, and it is likely enough that he
knew next to nothing of it.
\ hand clapped' him on the shoulder,
and with start, he turned around. a
tall young man, in new frock coat and a
faultess hat, stood by him, smiling at lin.
What, Charlie, old fellowi' cried Tay-
lor, "where do you spring from?'
Charlie explained that he was up in town
for month or two.
Its splendid to meet you the first day!
l was going to look you up" he said.
Sigismund TAYLOR and Charlie had been
intimate friends at Oxford, although
Charlie was. as time counts there, very
considerably the junior. For the last two
or three years they had hardly met.
But what are you up for?"
"Oh, well. you see, my uncle wants me
to get called to the bar, or something, so I
ran up to have look into it."
"Will that take month";"
"LOok here old fellow, I've got nothing
else to dol don't see why l shouldn't
stretch it TO three months. Besides, I
want to spend some time with my an
cestOrs."
with your ancestors?"
''In the British Museum; I am writing
book about them. Queer lot some of them
were, too. OF course, / am specially in
terested in Agatha Merceron, but suppose
you never heard of her"
Mr.. Taylor confessed his ignorance, and
Charlie, taking his arm, walked him up
and down the bank, while he talked on his
pet subject. Agatha Merceron was always
interesting, and Just now ANYTHING about
the Pool was interesting; for there was
one reason for his visit to London which
he had not disclosed. Nettie Wallace had
when he met her one day, incautiously
dropped word which seemed to imply
that the other Agatha was often in London.
Nettie tried to recall her words, but the
mischief was done and Charlie became
more than ever convinced that he would
grow rusty if he staid always at Langburv
Court. In fact, he would suffer it no
longer, and to town he went
For a while Sigismund Taylor listened
with more than average interest to Charles
story, but it CHANGED that one word caught
his notice.
"She comes out of the temple" said
Charlle, IN voice OF hushed reverence
with which he was wont to talk of the I'M
happy lady.
"Out of whereof asked Mr. Taylor.
"The temple. Oh, forgot The temple
is'-and Charlie gave description which
need not be repeated.
Temple! Temple! Where had he heard
OF a temple lately? Mr.. Taylor cudgeIed
his brains. Why-why-yes, she had
spoken of a temple. She said they met in
a temple. 1t was strange coincidence;
the word had struck him at the time. But
then everybody knows that, at certain
period, 1t was common enough to put up
these little classical ereetions as memo
rial or merely as an ornament to pleasure
grounds. 1t must be a mere coincidence.
But-Mr. Taylor stopped short
Whats up" asked Charlie, who had
finished his narrative, and was now study
ing the faces of the ladies who rode past.
hNothing," answered Mr.. Taylor.
And really it was not much, taken by
itself-entirely unworthy of notice; even
taken in conjunction with the temple of no
real significance that he could see Still,
it was a whimsical thing that. as had Just
struck him, Charles, specter should be
named Agatha. But it came to nothing;
how could the name of Charles specter
bava ANYTHING to do with that Of his nanj-