"I don't think you would, any more than the Pharisees would have gained by being reduced to the level of the Sadducees; not that I would wish to use either term offensively towards the conscientious individuals who were, doubtless, comprised in the above sects in old time, still less as a reproach to the excellent men who fill the churches and chapels of this country now; but it has possibly not occurred to them that the Churchianity of the present day bears as little resemblance to the Christianity of eighteen hundred years ago, as the latter did to the worship it came to supersede;" and I felt I had sown seed in the ecclesiastical vineyard, and would leave it to fructify. "Good fellow, Frank!" I overheard Dickiefield say, as I left the room; "it is a pity his head is a little turned!" "Ah," I thought, "something is upside down; perhaps it is my head, but I rather think it is the world generally, including always the religious world. It seemed to have taken a start in the right direction nearly two thousand years ago, and now it has all slipped back again worse than ever, and is whirling the wrong way with a rapidity that makes one giddy. I feel more giddy than usual to-day, somehow," I soliloquised; "and every time I look at Lady Ursula, I feel exactly as if I had smoked too much. It can't be really that, so I'll light a cigar and steady my nerves before I come to the tremendous issue. She is too sensible to mind my smelling of tobacco." These were the thoughts that passed through my somewhat bewildered brain, as I stepped out upon the terrace and lit my cigar. So far from my nerves becoming steadier, however, under the usually soothing influence, I felt my heart beating more rapidly each time I endeavoured to frame the sentence upon which was to depend the happiness of my life, until at last my resolution gave way altogether, and I determined to put upon paper, in the form of an interrogatory, the momentous question. A glass door opened from a recess in the drawing-room upon the terrace on which I was walking, and in it, on my former visits, I had been in the daily habit of writing my letters. It was a snug retreat, with a fire all to itself, a charming view, and a _portière_ which separated it or not from the drawing-room, according to the wish of the occupant. The first question I had to consider when I put the writing materials before me was, whether I ought to begin, "Dear Lady Ursula," or, "My dear Lady Ursula." I should not have entertained the idea of beginning "My dear," did I not feel that having known her as a child entitled me to assume a certain intimacy. However, on further consideration, I adopted the more distant form, and then my real difficulty began. While looking for an inspiration at the further end of the avenue which stretched from the lawn, I became conscious of a figure moving slowly towards me, which I finally perceived to be that of Lady Broadhem herself. In my then frame