The conversation became general. Some feeling that she could not explain to herself led Mrs. Flaxman into a closer observation of her niece Mary than usual. There was much affection between the aunt and the niece, but on Mrs. Flaxman's side, at least, not much understanding. She thought of Mary as an interesting creature, with some striking gifts--amongst them her mother's gift for goodness. But it seemed to the aunt that she was far too grave and reserved for her age; that she had been too strenuously brought up, and in a too narrow world. Rose Flaxman had often impatiently tried to enliven the girl's existence, to give her nice clothes, to take her to balls and to the opera. But Mary's adoration for her mother stood in the way. "And really if she would only take a hand for herself"--thought Mrs. Flaxman--"she might be quite pretty! She is pretty!" And she looked again at the girl beside her, wondering a little, as though a veil were lifted from something familiar. Mary was talking--softly, and with a delicate and rather old-fashioned choice of words, but certainly with no lack of animation. And it was quite evident to an inquisitive aunt with a notorious gift for match making that the tired heretic with the patches of coal dust on his coat found her very attractive. But as the clock struck six Meynell sprang up. "I must go. Miss Elsmere"--he looked toward her--"has kindly promised to take me on to see your sister at the Cottage--and after to-day I may not have another opportunity." He hesitated, considering his hostess--then burst out: "You were at church last Sunday--I know--I saw you. I want to tell you--that you have a church quite as near to you as the parish church, where everything is quite orthodox--the church at Haddon End. I wish I could have warned you. I--I did ask Miss Elsmere to warn her mother." Rose looked at the carpet. "You needn't pity us," she said, demurely. "Hugh wants to talk to you dreadfully. But--I am afraid I am a Gallio." "Of course--you don't need to be told--it was all a deliberate defiance of the law--in order to raise vital questions. We have never done anything half so bad before. We determined on it at a public meeting last week, and we gave Barron and his friends full warning." "In short, it is revolution," said Manvers, rubbing his hands gently, "and you don't pretend that it isn't." "It is revolution!" said Meynell, nodding. "Or a forlorn hope! The laymen in the Church want a real franchise--a citizenship they can exercise--and a law of their own making!" There was silence a moment. Mary Elsmere took up her hat, and kissed her aunt; Meynell made his farewells, and followed the girl's lead into the garden.