He could only decide such a matter on his own conscience, which had given him a strong leading. He was quite sure that the Bishop would respect his decision. Couldn't they accept it now as having been made, and help him in looking forward and preparing for the new work he had undertaken? This plea seemed to show a slight weakening. They drew from him the admission that his letter of refusal had not yet been posted, and set themselves ardently to induce him to reconsider it. Under the violence of the attack he seemed to waver, though the streak of obstinacy in him, almost more than the weight of his convictions, was all the time stiffening him under the appearance of indecision, which was only the result of not being able to find immediate answers to each and all of their arguments. The battle moved its scene from the dining-room to the drawing-room, and raged with varying degrees of heat until it was nearly time for family prayers. It flared up hotly when Denis told them that he had spent the night with the Vicar of the London parish of whom he had already accepted a curacy; for he had to admit that he had been in negotiation about it for some time, and they pointed out to him with some truth that if he had told them of this, instead of keeping it himself as if it were a shameful secret, all the present trouble would have been avoided. And was it _possible_ that he had said nothing to the Bishop about it, when he had had that long talk with him, and he had been so kind? In their offence at having been kept in the dark themselves, they had not at once fastened upon this, the weakest of all places in the young man's armour. Why had he not told the Bishop, in that talk in which the announcement of such a decision would only have drawn the kindest sympathy and the wisest advice? He had asked himself that question many times during the hour he had spent by himself battling with his temptation, and there had been no answer to it for which he could take any credit to himself.