Luke's eyes rested lovingly on the retreating figure of his wife, and as he turned to the Bishop the question in his eyes was so evident that the latter answered it. "Yes," he said laughing, "I know what you want me to say—that there never was a sweeter girl in the world; I congratulate you Greville on your marriage." "It is an ideal marriage," said Luke. "She is all I could possibly wish for." "Knowing her father I'm not surprised to hear you say so. What does she do in the parish?" For a moment Luke was taken aback. He suddenly realized the fact that she did nothing but keep his home for him. "I don't encourage her to work in the parish," he said. "She is much too young, I feel, as yet; I consulted my mother about it and we both came to the conclusion that it was best at present for her to do nothing in that line." "But is not that rather a pity? For the Vicar's wife to be a nonentity is not good for a parish, surely there is something she can do." "I can't tell you the state of the place," said Luke. "It would not really be fit for her to go among the people. I could not endure for her to learn of all the awful sin that abounds. It would be such a terrible shock to her." "But, my dear fellow; you married her to be a helpmeet for you. I don't think a man has any right to marry a girl and then to keep her entirely to himself just to make his home comfortable, when there is God's work to be done. I think you should trust her with God. It is no good keeping people blissfully ignorant of the sin that abounds. Besides, ignorance is not innocence. It is almost as if you were leading her about blindfold." "My mother felt very strongly about it," said Luke. And yet for the first time a suspicion crossed his mind that possibly he was denying to Rachel from selfish motives, the wonderful privilege of working for God in the Parish. He could not bear that his sweet wife should touch pitch even though it was in God's service. He remembered saying to her what a rest it was for him to come home and be with someone who knew nothing of the awful matters with which he had come in contact during the day. Might not this be a subtle form of selfishness on his part? "Do you suppose that the women who go as Missionaries," added the Bishop "have the faintest idea of the horrors they will see and learn about? Yet you would not urge them to stay at home. Help her to work for her God regardless of the consequences. Leave these with God. Besides you may not always have your mother who I suppose is as good as a curate to you." Luke determined to think the matter out when alone, and was soon pacing the nut walk with a fellow clergyman discussing the attitude of the modernists in the Church of England. [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII. THE BISHOP COMES TO LUNCH. The opinion of his mother weighed with Luke more than that of his Bishop.