Lord Lufton had spoken to Mark about this sale, and had explained to him that such a sacrifice was absolutely necessary, in consequence of certain pecuniary transactions between him, Lord Lufton, and Mr. Sowerby. But it was found impracticable to complete the business without Lady Lufton’s knowledge, and her son had commissioned Mr. Robarts not only to inform her ladyship, but to talk her over, and to appease her wrath. This commission he had not yet attempted to execute, and it was probable that this visit to Chaldicotes would not do much to facilitate the business. “They are the most magnificent islands under the sun,” said Harold Smith to the bishop. “Are they, indeed!” said the bishop, opening his eyes wide, and assuming a look of intense interest. “And the most intelligent people.” “Dear me!” said the bishop. “All they want is guidance, encouragement, instruction—” “And Christianity,” suggested the bishop. “And Christianity, of course,” said Mr. Smith, remembering that he was speaking to a dignitary of the Church. It was well to humour such people, Mr. Smith thought. But the Christianity was to be done in the Sunday sermon, and was not part of his work. “And how do you intend to begin with them?” asked Mr. Supplehouse, the business of whose life it had been to suggest difficulties. “Begin with them—oh—why—it’s very easy to begin with them. The difficulty is to go on with them, after the money is all spent. We’ll begin by explaining to them the benefits of civilization.” “Capital plan!” said Mr. Supplehouse. “But how do you set about it, Smith?” “How do we set about it? How did we set about it with Australia and America? It is very easy to criticize; but in such matters the great thing is to put one’s shoulder to the wheel.” “We sent our felons to Australia,” said Supplehouse, “and they began the work for us. And as to America, we exterminated the people instead of civilizing them.” “We did not exterminate the inhabitants of India,” said Harold Smith, angrily. “Nor have we attempted to Christianize them, as the bishop so properly wishes to do with your islanders.” “Supplehouse, you are not fair,” said Mr. Sowerby, “neither to Harold Smith nor to us;—you are making him rehearse his lecture, which is bad for him; and making us hear the rehearsal, which is bad for us.” “Supplehouse belongs to a clique which monopolizes the wisdom of England,” said Harold Smith; “or, at any rate, thinks that it does. But the worst of them is that they are given to talk leading articles.” “Better that, than talk articles which are not leading,” said Mr. Supplehouse. “Some first-class official men do that.” “Shall I meet you at the duke’s next week, Mr. Robarts?” said the bishop to him, soon after they had gone into the drawing-room.