"Who are 'we'?"

"Papa is _very_ strict High Church."

An idea seemed to strike Mr Beveridge, for he ruminated in silence.

"I asked Mr Candles-our curate, you know," Lady Alicia continued, with a heroic effort to make her position clear.

"You told him!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, I didn't say who it was-I mean what it was I thought of doing-I mean the temptation-that is, the possibility. And he said it was very kind of me to think of it; but I mustn't do anything, and he advised me to read a book he gave me, and-and I mustn't think of it, really, Mr Beveridge."

To himself Mr Beveridge repeated under his breath, "Archbishops, bishops, deacons, curates, fast in Lent, and an anthem after the Creed. I think I remember enough to pa.s.s."

Then he a.s.sumed a very serious face, and said aloud, "Your scruples do your heart credit. They have given me an insight into your deep and sweet character, which emboldens me to make a confession."

He stopped skating, folded his arms, and continued unblushingly, "I was educated for the Church, but the prejudices of my parents, the immature scepticism of youth, and some uncertainty about obtaining my archbishopric, induced me in an unfortunate moment, which I never ceased to bitterly regret, to quit my orders."

"You are in orders?" she exclaimed.

"I was in several. I cancelled them, and entered the Navy instead."

"The Navy?" she asked, excusably bewildered by these rapid changes of occupation.

"For five years I was never ash.o.r.e."

"But," she hesitated-"but you said you were in the Army."

Mr Beveridge gave her a look full of benignant compa.s.sion that made her, she did not quite know why, feel terribly abashed.

"My regiment was quartered at sea," he condescended to explain. "But in time my conscience awoke. I announced my intention of resuming my charge.

My uncle was furious. My enemies were many. I was seized, thrown into this prison-house, and now my only friend fails me."

They were both silent. She ventured once to glance up at his face, and it seemed to her that his eyes were moist-though perhaps it was that her own were a little dim.

"Let us skate on," he said abruptly, with a fine air of resignation.

"By the way," he suddenly added, "I was extremely High Church, in fact almost freezingly high."

For five minutes they skated in silence, then Lady Alicia began softly, "Supposing you-you went away--"

"What is the use of talking of it?" he exclaimed, melodramatically. "Let me forget my short-lived hopes!"

"You _have_ a friend," she said, slowly.

"A friend who tantalises me by 'supposings'!"

"But supposing you did, Mr Beveridge, would you go back to your-did you say you had a parish?"

"I had: a large, populous, and happy parish. It is my one dream to sit once more on its council and direct my curate."

"Of course that makes a difference. Mr Candles didn't know all this."

They had come by this time to the corner of a little island that lay not far from the sh.o.r.e; in the channel ahead a board labelled "Danger" marked a hidden spring; behind them the shining ice was almost bare of skaters, for all but Dr Escott seemed to be leaving; on the bank they could see Moggridge prowling about in the gathering dusk, a vigilant reminder of captivity. Mr Beveridge took the whole scene in with, it is to be feared, a militant rather than an episcopal eye. Then he suddenly asked, "Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"You drive back?"

"Ye-es."

He took out his watch and made a brief calculation.

"Go now, call at Clankwood or do anything else you like, and pa.s.s down the drive again at a quarter to five."

This sudden pinning of her irresolution almost took Lady Alicia's breath away.

"But I never said--" she began.

"My dear friend," he interrupted, "in the hour of action only a fool ever says. Come on."

And while she still hesitated they were off again.

"But--" she tried to expostulate.

"My dearest friend," he whispered, "and my dear old vicarage!"

He gave her no time to protest. Her skates were off, she was on her way to her carriage, and he was striking out again for the middle of the lake before she had time to collect her wits.

He took out his watch and looked at the time. It was nearly a quarter-past four. Then he came up to Escott, who by this time was the only other soul on the ice.

"About time we were going in," said Escott.

"Give me half-an-hour more. I'll show you how to do that vine you admired."

"All right," a.s.sented the doctor.

A minute or two later Mr Beveridge, as if struck by a sudden reflection, exclaimed, "By Jove, there's that poor devil Moggridge freezing to death on sh.o.r.e. Can't you manage to look after so dangerous a lunatic yourself?

It is his tea-time, too."

"Hallo, so he is," replied Escott; "I'll send him up."

And so there were only left the two men on the ice.

For a little the lesson went on, and presently, leaving the doctor to practise, Mr Beveridge skated away by himself. He first paused opposite a seat on the bank over which hung Dr Escott's great fur coat. This spectacle appeared to afford him peculiar pleasure. Then he looked at his watch. It was half-past four. He shut the watch with a click, threw a glance at his pupil, and struck out for the island. If the doctor had been looking, he might have seen him round it in the gloaming.

Dr Escott, leaning far on his outside edge, met him as he returned.

"What's that under your coat?" he asked.