Meynell himself had spoken, urging on the meeting the profound responsibility resting on the Reformers--the need for gentleness no less than for courage; bidding them remember the sacredness of the ground they were treading, the tenacity and depth of the roots they might be thought to be disturbing. "Yet at the same time we must _fight!_--and we must fight with all our strength. For over whole classes of this nation, Christianity is either dying or dead; and it is only we--and the ideas we represent--that can save it." The speech had been received with deep emotion rather than applause; and the meeting had there and then proceeded to the formation of a "Reformers' League" to extend throughout the diocese. "It is already rumoured," said the _Post_, "that at least sixteen or eighteen beneficed clergy, with their congregations, have either joined, or are about to join, the Reformers. The next move now lies with the Bishop, and with the orthodox majority of the diocese. If we are not mistaken, Mr. Meynell and his companions in heresy will very soon find out that the Church has still power enough to put down such scandalous rebellions against her power and authority as that of the Rector of Upcote, and to purge her borders of disloyal and revolutionary priests." Theresa looked up. Her face had grown pale. "How _terrible_, father! Did you know they were to hold the meeting?" "I heard something about a debate at this precious club. What does that matter? Let them blaspheme in private as they please, it hurts nobody but themselves. But a public meeting at the Bishop's very door--and eighteen of his clergy!" He paced the room up and down, in an excitement he could hardly control. "The poor, poor Bishop!" said Theresa, softly, the tears in her eyes. "He will have the triumph of his life!" exclaimed Barron, looking up. "If there are dry bones on our side, this will put life into them. Those fellows have given themselves into our hands!" He paused in his walk, falling into a profound reverie in which he lost all sense of his daughter's presence. She dared not rouse him; and indeed the magnitude of the scandal and distress left her speechless. She could only think of the Bishop--their frail, saintly Bishop whom every one loved. At last a clock struck. She said gently: "Father, I think it is time to go." Barron started, drew a long breath, gathered up the newspaper, and took a letter from his pocket. "That is for Maurice. Put in anything you like, but don't miss the morning post." "Do you see the Bishop this morning, father?" "No--this afternoon. But there will be plenty to do this morning." He named two or three heads of the church party in Markborough on whom he must call. He must also see his solicitor, and find out whether the counsel whom the promoters of the writ against Meynell desired to secure had been already retained.