A servant had just opened the shutters. Angelica went to one of the windows and, throwing it up to the top, inhaled a deep breath of the fresh morning air. The rain had stopped. The servant put out the lamps and withdrew, after standing aside for a moment respectfully to allow Sir Mosley Menteith to enter. The latter glanced round the room, but Angelica was hidden by the curtain in the deep embrasure of the window. Menteith bit his nails and stood still for some time. Then the bishop came, followed by Dr. Galbraith, and walked straight up to him. It was a bad moment for Sir Mosley Menteith. He tried to inspect his father-in-law coolly, but his hand was somewhat tremulous as he raised it to twist the ends of his little light moustache. "My daughter wishes you to leave the house," the bishop said sternly; "and--eh--I may say that I--that _we_--eh--her father and mother, also wish you to go--eh--now, at once." Angelica sprang from her hiding place. "And take that," she cried, "for a present, you father of a speckled toad!" And seizing the heavy quarto Bible from the table, she flung it with all her might full in his face. It happened to hit him on the bridge of his nose, which it broke. CHAPTER IX. Later in the day Lord Dawne, who had ridden in, saw Dr. Galbraith's carriage waiting before Mrs. Orton Beg's little house in the Close. He reined in his horse, which was fidgety, and at the same moment Dr. Galbraith came out. "Nothing wrong here, I hope?" Lord Dawne inquired. "No," was the curt response, "it is that poor child at the palace. I have been up with her all night." "What is the matter now?" Lord Dawne inquired. "Now--it is her brain," the doctor answered; then stepped into his carriage and was driven away. Lord Dawne dismounted and met Mrs. Orton Beg, who was coming out with her bonnet on. "No hope, I suppose!" he said in a tone of deep commiseration. "Oh, it is worse than death!" she answered. "I am going there now. Dr. Galbraith says I shall be of use." The bishop and Angelica spent some time in the library together that morning. The bishop had sent for Angelica to talk to her, and she had come to talk to the bishop; and, being quicker of speech than he, she had taken the initiative. "Did you ever feel like a horse with a bearing rein, champing his bit?" she began the moment she burst into the room. "No, I never did," said the bishop severely. "Ah! then I can never make you understand how I feel now!" she said, throwing herself on to a chair opposite to him, sideways, so that she could clasp the back. "You look very unsympathetic," she remarked. "It seems to me," the bishop began with increased severity, "that you have no respect for anybody." "No, I have not," she answered decidedly--"at least not for bishops and doctors who let Menteith miscreants loose in society to marry whom they please." The bishop winced.