The record-union., 1896-06-07

were for Mr.. Hepburn's Yet not TO-
day; in a normal mood he would have
fingered affectionately, smiling a.
thankfulness beyond expression. in this
pleasant garden, seeing wonderful and
beautiful things, with the inward sense
which is created and Fed by the heaven
ly vision. But this tinlid man of frag-
lie. fine character was sorely afflicted.
and not all the beauty of all the Bish-
ops garden could give peace to his sad
heart or ease the torment of his
thoughts
So Mr.. Hepburn came at length to the
place where he would be, to be make his
supplfcaaion; and white roses and red
hung over him as he stood by the pail
ace door, the doorthrough which prelates
great and small had PASSED since the
Saxon days, and the air was heavy with
perfume. The Bishop. the footman told
him, was in London; he had been speak
ing in the House of Lords the night be-
fore, but he was expected home that
morning; the carriage, indeed, had gone
TO the station for his lordShip. Mr. Hep
burn expressing "a wish to wait, the
footman said i'm syTnpa thy: You seem
tired, SIR and knowing him well, con-
dUcted him to the Bishops study and
there left him.
The study was small and ancient,
and seemed haunted by invisible saint
ly presences and the voices of wise men.
The windows were open and looked out
on the garden, and the breeze made the
roses incline this way, as if they would
be where wisdom dwelt. Mr. Hepburn,
from the high-backed chair which had
been given him, let his eyes wander
timorouSly about the room He saw
scarce anything i'm detail, yet was inn
pressed deeply, as an epileptfc prisoner
doubtful of the nature OF his crime)
might be i'm a court OF assize. The min
utes passed, and he grew more desolate
and dreading. AT last, his gaze resting
Oh the Bishops table (the only table in
the room) he perceived there a heap of
letters.
The letters were apparently unopened; i;
they would be waiting until the Bishop
should come. The curate knew how
punctilious his diocesan was about his
correspondence. Nevertheless for
some moments absolutely no specula-
tion regarding the significance. the pos
sibilitieS of this circumstance entered
Mr.. Hepburn's mind. His was a slow
brain naturally; slower still to act
where the opportunity of doubtful con-
duct was offered. On a sudden he
raised his head in a startled nervous
fashion, for it had occurred to him
that, as the Bishop had been in London
since the previous day, probably he had
not seen Caroline's letter containing
Mr.. Jardine's manuscript
Mr.. Hepburn moved uneasily in his
chair; he glanced towards the door, the
window, and drew his hand across his
brow in a bewildered way The serv-
ant had shut the door; he was alone
in the study. His eyes were fixed
again on the letters; he sighed heavily;
a moisture appeared on his face. If
Caroline's letter should be therel
He stood up, and as he moved to the
table the sound of carriage wheels
was heard. He was shaken spiritually
rather than bodily; his hand did not
tremble at all as it turned over the let
ters. Yes-here was Caroline's He
lifted it, held it over the other letters,
his arm outstretched; then suddenly
let it fall and stood gazing at it, like a
man who felt that he was tampering
Bishops voice came from the stair
Mr.. Hepburn's hand touched the letter
again, but was instantly withdrawn;
his vital forces seemed paralyzed. He
uttered low moan, and slid back to
his chair, leaving the letter on the
table.
The Bishop entered, and Mr.. Hep
burn (his hands on the rests of the
e;,aN i
''Ah, good morning, Mr.. Hepburn.
You are an early riser too. 1 am pleased
to see you"
The Bishop seated himself at the
table. The servant placed a black
bag on it and left the study. Mr.. Hep
burn remained partially standing.
BE seated, Mr.. Hepburn. be seated.
1 am sure you won't mind my going on
with my letters. I wished to see you.
1 hope Mrs. Hepburn is quite we'll"
Thank you, my Lord"
The Bishop began to open his letters,
using a little ivory paper-knife. He
read each one as he opened it. Mrs
Hepburn's was the third which he took
up. He thrust in the paper-knife.
MY Lord"
Mr.. Hepburn had advanced a step.
He held forth his hands in a pitiful,
imploring way. The Bishop, pausing
in the act of taking out Mr.. Jardine's
manuscript. looked at him curiously
Yes, Mr.. Hepburn? 1 think you are
not we'll to-day"
THAT letter, my Lord, is from my
wife"
Indeed said the Bishop He
smiled benignly. 'I suppose it is about
East Wispers. Mrs. Hepburn spo-
Aha, 1 must not betray lady's conf
dence. Oh, no; oh, no; no, no. You
have careful and solicitous wife, Mr.
Hepburn, an excellent wife. Oh, yes
oh, yes; yes, yes"
My Lord Mr.. Hepburn moved
up to the table as he spoke Might l
beg of your Lordship-my Lord, as a
peculiar kindness to me personally
that you will not read my wife's letter."
The Bishop looked at the superscrip-
ton. 'It is really from Mrs Hepburn 2"
he said.
yes, my Lord
'Then-certainly; here is the letter."
said the Bishop.
Mr.. Hepburn put it in his pocket.
Thank you, my Lord" he faltered in
profound humility And thank
thank God!'' he added, raising his
voice.
"Oh, it can't be so serious as that"
the Bishop said, opening another let
ter. after all, it was not unnatural
that Mrs. Hepburn should desire to say
a good word for you, though the prac-
tice is hardly openly to be encouraged
have decided, Mr.. Hepburn" the pre-
late added pleasantly " to offer YOU