Bertha was still so ill that Miss Glover dared not press the subject, but she was grievously troubled. She asked herself whether she should consult her brother, to whom an absurd shyness prevented her from mentioning spiritual matters, unless necessity compelled. But she had immense faith in him, and to her he was a type of all that a Christian clergyman should be. Although her character was so much stronger than his, Mr. Glover always seemed to his sister a pillar of strength; and often in past times, when the flesh was more stubborn, had she found help and consolation in his very mediocre sermons. Finally, however, Miss Glover decided to speak to him, with the result that, for a week she avoided spiritual topics in her daily conversation with the invalid; then, Bertha having grown a little stronger, without previously mentioning the fact, she brought her brother to Court Leys. Miss Glover went alone to Bertha’s room, in her ardent sense of propriety fearing that Bertha, in bed, might not be costumed decorously enough for the visit of a clerical gentleman. “Oh,” she said, “Charles is downstairs and would like to see you so much. I thought I’d better come up first to see if you were--er--presentable.” Bertha was sitting up in bed, with a mass of cushions and pillows behind her--a bright red jacket contrasted with her dark hair and the pallor of her skin. She drew her lips together when she heard that the Vicar was below, and a slight frown darkened her forehead. Miss Glover caught sight of it. “I don’t think she likes your coming,” said Miss Glover--to encourage him--when she fetched her brother, “but I think it’s your duty.” “Yes, I think it’s my duty,” replied Mr. Glover, who liked the approaching interview as little as Bertha. He was an honest man, oppressed by the inroads of dissent; but his ministrations were confined to the services in church, the collecting of subscriptions, and the visiting of the church-going poor. It was something new to be brought before a rebellious gentlewoman, and he did not quite know how to treat her. Miss Glover opened the bedroom door for her brother and he entered, a cold wind laden with carbolic acid. She solemnly put a chair for him by the bedside and another for herself at a little distance. “Ring for the tea before you sit down, Fanny,” said Bertha. “I think, if you don’t mind, Charles would like to speak to you first,” said Miss Glover. “Am I not right, Charles?” “Yes, dear.” “I took the liberty of telling him what you said to me the other day, Bertha.” Mrs. Craddock pursed her lips, but made no reply. “I hope you’re not angry with me for doing so, but I thought it my duty.... Now, Charles.” The Vicar of Leanham coughed. “I can quite understand,” he said, “that you must be most distressed at your affliction. It’s a most unfortunate occurrence. I need not say that Fanny and I sympathise with you from the bottom of our hearts.” “We do indeed,” said his sister.