Sara, with a becoming instinct of meekness, took her favourite seat on the fender, and at the feet of the two men, looking up humbly, began to explain herself with that lightness of phrase only possible to those who have a profound knowledge of their subject. Her submissive attitude, her soft, musical voice, and her docile expression made both men insensible to the actual commands insinuated into the emotional wit and acute arguments of her little speech. Reckage was fascinated. He sat there drinking in her beauty and wisdom--the one stimulated his senses, the other pierced his intelligence, making him feel that, with such a companion ever by his side, he might achieve heroism with a good conscience. As matters were, he was often dissatisfied, sleepless, and oppressed--particularly under praise. He was not often set right, as he would have said it, in his own opinion--even when the world and his Executive Committee were disposed to cry out--"Well done." "I didn't run within pounds of my form," was the cry of self-reproach he invariably heard above the applause of his colleagues or the commendation of the Press. Sara, he believed, would give him the courage of his own better nature. These thoughts were passing rosily in his heart, when Lord Garrow, accompanied by Agnes Carillon, entered the room. "My love," said Lord Garrow to Sara, "I met Miss Carillon on the steps of the London Library, and I have brought her in to tea. But why do you sit in the firelight? Why haven't they lit the gas? And who is here?" A sudden flame from the grate illuminated the faces of Orange and Lord Reckage. The two ladies greeted each other. All spoke, and then all were silent. It was an awkward meeting for every one present. Lord Garrow rang the bell, and the small company sat there without a word, watching the footman light the gas in the glass chandelier. "What do you suppose we have been talking about?" asked Sara desperately. "I can't imagine, my dear," said her father. "I am far too cross. I hate these odd ways." "We were discussing the validity of Anglican Orders." "God bless my soul!" exclaimed his lordship; "what next?" Agnes, who was looking pale and worried, frowned with displeasure. "But how disloyal!" she said severely. "As if one could even discuss such a question!" "Mr. Orange is a Roman Catholic," answered Sara, "so he is not disloyal. I am nothing--so I have no obligations. Lord Reckage is in public life and has to meet the problems of the age. Don't be narrow, dear Agnes." "I think it too bad, all the same," replied Miss Carillon--"even in fun. I am sure I am right." Lord Reckage tried to conceal his annoyance, but his voice shook a little as he said-- "We were not joking. New men will come in, not improbably with new ideas. I must be ready for them. An ignorance of men's moods is fatal." He hoped she would take this warning to herself. She was, however, too stirred to consider anything except the cause of their common agitation.