“I mean no one in particular-- I mean everybody-- I mean that the whole idea is preposterous. Why,” said the rector, bursting into a little laugh, “it is like an old play; it is like an invention in a romance; it is like--” “Oh-h!” said Mrs. Ford, drawing in her breath. She had not intended to speak in such fine company; but this was too much for her; and it had always been believed by those who knew her most intimately that she was still a Dissenter in her heart. “Oh-h!” she said, with a little shudder. “When you consider that poor Mr. Trevor was carried out of this house, feet foremost, this very day, and before the first night that folks should laugh--” The rector got very red. “I beg your pardon,” he said, sharply, not with an apologetic voice. Mr. Williamson began once more to smooth his hat. There was in him a suppressed smile from the sole of his shoe to the top of his head, and the rector was aware of it, but could not take any notice, which discomposed that dignified, clergyman more than if it had been a greater matter. Mrs. Stone here interfered; naturally her sympathies were all with the Church; but she liked, at the same time, to show her superior acquaintance with the testator’s wishes. “If you will allow me,” she said, “I had the advantage of hearing from poor Mr. Trevor himself what he meant. He did not wish to deprive his dear daughter of the advice of one who would be her spiritual instructor. He was--not a Churchman; but he was a man of great judgment. He considered that the rector had a right to a voice in a matter so important. But,” said Mrs. Stone suddenly, seeing Lady Randolph eager to interfere, “perhaps this is scarcely a moment to discuss the matter; and in the presence of--”