"But who is to have it removed? And if I could succeed in doing so, what would be said to me for putting down a place of worship after such a fashion as that?" "Who could say anything against you, Frank?" "The truth is, it is Lord Trowbridge who is my enemy here, and not the chapel or Mr. Puddleham. I'd have given the spot for the chapel, had they wanted it, and had I had the power to give it. I'm annoyed because Lord Trowbridge should know that he had got the better of me. If I can only bring myself to feel,--and you too,--that there is no better in it, and no worse, I shall be annoyed no longer. Lord Trowbridge cannot really touch me; and could he, I do not know that he would." "I know he would." "No, my dear. If he suddenly had the power to turn me out of the living I don't believe he'd do it,--any more than I would him out of his estate. Men indulge in little injuries who can't afford to be wicked enough for great injustice. My dear, you will do me a great favour,--the greatest possible kindness,--if you'll give up all outer, and, as far as possible, all inner hostility to the chapel." "Oh, Frank!" "I ask it as a great favour,--for my peace of mind." "Of course I will." "There's my darling! It shan't make me unhappy any longer. What!--a stupid lot of bricks and mortar, that, after all, are intended for a good purpose,--to think that I should become a miserable wretch just because this good purpose is carried on outside my own gate. Were it in my dining-room, I ought to bear it without misery." "I will strive to forget it," said his wife. And on the next morning, which was Good Friday, she walked to church, round by the outside gate, in order that she might give proof of her intention to keep her promise to her husband. Her husband walked before her; and as she went she looked round at her sister and shuddered and turned up her nose. But this was involuntary.