"She doesn't often speak to the likes of me," said Rose; "which of course is a great advantage for the likes of me. But next time I shall speak to her--which will be so good for her. My dear Hugh, don't let Meynell be too magnanimous--I can't stand it." Flaxman laughed, but rather absently. It was evident that he was still under the strong impression of the conversation he had just passed through. Rose stole up to him, and put her lips to his ear. "Who--was--Hester's father?" Flaxman looked up. "I haven't the least idea." "But of course we must all know some time," said Rose discontentedly. "Catharine knows already." * * * * * Meynell passed that evening in his study, after some hours spent in the Christmas business of a large parish. His mind was full of agitation, and when midnight struck, ushering in Christmas Eve, he was still undecided as to his precise course. Among the letters of the day lying scattered beside him on the floor there was yet further evidence of the power of Barron's campaign. There were warm expressions indeed of sympathy and indignation to be found among them, but on the whole Meynell realized that his own side's belief in him was showing some signs of distress, while the attack upon him was increasing in violence. His silence even to his most intimate friends, even to his Bishop; the disappearance from England of the other persons named in the scandal; the constant elaborations and embellishments of the story as it passed from mouth to mouth--these things were telling against him steadily and disastrously. As he hung over the fire, he anxiously reconsidered his conduct toward the Bishop, while Catharine's phrase--"He, too, has his rights!" lingered in his memory. He more than suspected that his silence had given pain; and his affection for the Bishop made the thought a sore one. But after all what good would have been done had he even put the Bishop in possession of the whole story? The Bishop's bare denial would have been added to his; nothing more. There could have been no explanation, public or private; nothing to persuade those who did not wish to be persuaded. His thought wandered hither and thither. From the dim regions of the past there emerged a letter....