THE BISHOP'S DECISION.

Otago Witness, Issue 2915, 26 January 1910, Page 90

THE BISHOP'S DECISION.

By Chris. Sewell.

The Rev. Arthur Hewlinjgs had been much criticised when he eluded the vigilance of an army of female admirers, and married a girl from the "Back of Beyond," as those of the army who were addicted to captiousness and Kipling spitefully remarked. He was criticised still more when it filtered out that the " Back of Beyond " chanced to be a cattle ranch somewhere in Dakota, and that Mies Sadie Collins (the name alone made the punctilious shiver)

had undoubtedly lived a somewhat unconventional life, and assisted an impecunious father by appearing for five out of her 22 years behind the footlights in New York City. She was decidedly pretty—you know the sour of prettiness, my dear, a, touzle of hair and twinkling blue eyes that turn everything into ridicule? Well, how he could, etc. But the Rev. Arthur Hewlings snapped metaphorie fingers in the faces of bis judges, for ho had looked through his spectacles into "the twinkling blue eyes that turned everything into ridicule," and had seen a soul so true and lovable that he had no hesitation in letting his own soul go out to it. And if Mrs Hewlings did check a pas seul in .its initial stage at a district visitors' meeting the exuberance which prompted it was, after all, simply the fact that a kindly member of the parish (in which her husband, though verging on 40, was still a curate) had promised a pension to old Charlie, a special protege of hers. Very ancient people—particularly if they were also decrepit and poor—were quite a mania with little Mrs Hewlings. She visited them, cheered them, and even sang to them indefatigably, and not being sufficiently educated for criticism they were content to love her and leave the rest alone. "I've pot a Britkh grandpa somewhere, you see, 1 ' she explained to her husband one day—"my only living relation now. My dear old darkie nurse told me about him. They'd quarrelled'—dad and he— I suppose, when poor dad, who was handsome, and wild, ran off with my mother i(gtrandlpa'.s daughter)'. I've a queer sort of notion that the old man's still alive, and that I'll find him some day in one of your cunning little English cottages with honeysuckle dangling over the porch and a big settle in the chimney corner." - It was 7.30 p.m., and dinner was timed for 8. Mr and Mrs Hewlings sat in their small drawing room in state. It was a momentous occasion, for they expected no less a person than the bishop of the diocese to share their repast. It was even more full of moment than it appeared at first sight, for the Bishop (it was an open secret) was coming more on private business than for the sake of social distraction. He wanted to reassure himself of the Reverend Arthur's suitability to- a certain important living that had fallen vacant, and before he came to any decision he wanted to assure himself of the suitability - of the Reverend Arthur's wife. "So—though he hasn't said it in so many words, little girl—it will all depend on you to make such, an .excellent impression on his lordship, that Plumpton will be ours. He writes that an energetic and tactful viearess is needed almost as much as a hard-working vicar,; so, for goodness' sake, be careful!" Now, the Reverend Arthur had set his conscientious heart upon Plumpton, and he spoke earnestly. Mrs Hewlings smoothed her touzle of hair (it touzled naturally, by the way), and drew her laughing face into a mock solemnity that boded wonderful things for Plumpton in the future. "I don't know much about bishops," she said; "say, Arthur, is he terribly alarmin'?" Her husband knitted his brows, and considered the question.. "He's a good man," he said slowly, and a great man; but he's very pompous, and he can be horribly severe. Yes, Sadie, on the whole I'm inclined to say that he is alarming—very." Sadie jumped up and clasped her hands. "My!" she exclaimed; " I'm bound to put my foot into it somehow—l've a perfect genius for putting my foot into things when I'm most specially asked to keep it out. Only let me work off steam first, there's a dear, and I'll watch every action and be a perfect encyclopaedia of every virtue all the evening." The Reverend Arthur took out his watch. " Work away, childie," he said, M and be quick about it; you've got a full quarter of an hour." And he smiled—well, as only those who are very much in love can smile. Sadie swished her black net (which she had donned as suitable to the occasion), and darted aimlessly hither and thither. " What will I do? Something to keep me from thinking; I'll get nervous if I think. I know! We'll have & bit of the scene between Hamlet and Ophelia. I've often played Ophelia in the States, and just died to play Hamlet. Now you shall be Ophelia, Arthur. I'm sure you've piles of dramatic talent —your sermons just brim with it. Get up !" She tugged excitedly at his hands. " So --stand there—no, wait.—you must look the part!" She seized a piece of Indian drapery from the sofa and fixed it round his waist, and then with deft, mischievous fingers proceeded to fashion a species of Puritan cap out of a green silk candle shade. Then she tiptoed and perched it on his respectable head, rippling with delight. " That's pe-rr-fectly fas'nating. Now clasp your hands —so —and look startled. You think I'm mad, remember !" Folding her own arms she strode forward with a frown. "Get thee to a nunnery, go; farewell. Or if thou wilt wed, mari'y." " The Bishop of Podminster." Mr Hewiings did retain sufficient presence of mind to tear off the fantastic drapery, and stood holding it in his hand as if it were a sort of missile ready to hurl at intruders. The ridiculous cap remained stilt on his head, and accorded strangely with his spectacles and with the absorbing blush which wrapped him from, brow to chili. perfectly helpless with laughter, simply stood and shook at his side. The from one to the other, and 'lhere" was a whole Volume in his expression. ,\-"^

The Reverend Arthur drew down the drapery, and collected his wits. "How do you do, my lord? It's so good of you to come to us —my wife—the Bishop of Podminster —I'm afraid, my lord, I'm afraid we were—er —er " Bomping?" suggested his lordship with a wry smile. "J owe you an apology for being early, Mrs Hewlings, but the fact is that a meeting demands my presence immediately after dinner, and so I took the liberty of coming before my time." . , He shook hands very solemnly with Sadie as he spoke. M "We're delighted to see you, my lord, she stammered bravely. «I_l W as just showing my husband an Amurrican version of Hamlet—he was 0P » Indeed!" said the Bishop fixing a very intent look upon Sadie's hushed face; "that is the reason, I presume, for hi* wearing a headdress?" The discomfited curate snatched off the candle shade, and, for the first time sine * he'd known her, Sadie's sdvery laugn orated upon him. He bade a long mental farewell to Plumpton, for he knew his Bishops moods, and there was a droop in the episcopal mouth, and a certain steely glimmer of the episcopal eye which suggested that his lordship felt himself disrespectfully treated. For a minute there wa-> a strained silence. ■ "Di-ner is sewed, ma'am," whispered * timid parlourmaid who had: been rehearsing the, a speech all day. In the kitchen a flurried cook hearing of tho august guest's arrival, had dished up hurriedly. . , The Bishop offered Sadie his arm, and conducted her in solemn silence to the dining room. . Dinner was a pronounced failure, baaie did her best to propitiate their guest; but her bright chatter fell heavily on her husband's ears, and still more heavily (as it seemed) on the ears of the Bishop. He listened in cold politeness, putting in a question here and there about her lite in the States, and obviously disapproving of each answer more than the last. Dessert came as an oasis in the desert, a-nd Sadie, who was choking with contrition under her gay manner, rose from the table thoughtfully after she had played with a pear for a few minutes, and disappeared. She darted upstairs and threw herself on the bed. The tears came freely. "Oh! I'm a wretched little idiot," she wailed to her pillow, "why did I play the fool. The Bishop thinks I'm a brainless, frivolous creature, and.no wonder! Now Arthur's it? terrible disgrace-—the living is done for —and if he stops loving me altogether, it's no more than I deserve!" Suddenly she sat up "abruptly and mopped her eyes. "Oh! there's the front door bangmg. Now he's gone, and I've never said goodbye to him even, and I suppose that's made matters worse! Oh! why do these British Bishops come before anyone- expects them, and why was I born?" She ran impulsively downstairs and peeped into the dining room—it was empty. She darted to the drawing room —the* maid partaking of the general dejection had not even tunned up the lights. At first Sadie thought the drawing room was empty too, but in another mom,ent she perceived her husband's .tall clerical figure standing by the mantelpiece in an attitude of stiff misery. In the spontaneous, childlike way which was peculiarly her own, Mrs Hewlings oast herself into the arms of the figure, buried her face on his shoulder, and poured out her repentant soul. "Arthur, darling," she cried, "I'm a hateful, abominable little wretch! If you feel like divorcing me I'll not be astonished; and if that horrid old man keeps yon a citrate for ever, it's all my fault! Oh, I'm not fit to live—l'm not "

"My lord," said an apologetic and horribly familiar voice -at the door, "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting and in darkness, too —and, after all, it was quite aft unimportant matter—just a pension to sign, which would have done to-morrow." A hasty hand" .switched up the gas, and to her everlasting and unutterable horror Sadie found, that she was crying upon the silk-draped breast of no less a person than the Bishop of Podminster! As she described.-it afterwards, "this constituted the strainin' point in the evening's festivity, and something had to give." The something was the remnant of her own self-control. She fell limply upon the sofa and sobbed as though her heart would break. Of the two men the Bishop, strangely enough, was the least paralysed. After a moment's pause of almost comical indecision he sat down beside her. "There, there, my dear young lady—my dear —er —child', there's nothing whatever to cry about. It was all a mistake —I knew at once, and, believe me, the 'horrid old man' is not so horrid as he looks. At any rate, he prides himself on being able to discover true worth, even under —well, unpromising conditions. Come, come, there's the rector-elect of Plumpton waiting for your congratulations." Sadie gasped, dried her eyes, and in her gratitude and amazement took one of the withered old hands in hers—the one with the big seal of office on its finger. "You're a dear," she gasped, "an' I'm a little fool; yes, I am, Bishop—and i wish I'd never left Amurrica!" There was a short pause, then the Bishop .spoke. "I don't agree with you," he said drily, "considering" that I myself have searched America for you. It seems to me just one of the ways which Providence works that you have .'left it; and so I've been telling your husband." Sadie jumped up, and looked as if she wg|f to have a serious .seizure of some 60*11. Her blue eyes flew to her husband, then back to the bishop. He looked

very sane, though older and more worn than she had fancied. "You've searched America for mat You, Bishop? Oh, you're joking!" "Indeed, I was never more serious m my life." , He gently withdrew his hand, and, extracting a pocket-book from inside his coat, drew out a carte-de-visite photograph. "Will you tell mo who that is?' he asked, and his voice trembled. Sadie took it from him and examined it. A little choking cry escaped her. Then she ran across to her husband and shook him by the arm. ■ " Arthar," she cried, " it's my mither! Look, look! It's the same as the one I have upstairs. Oh! Arthur —Bishop — what does it mean?" " It means," said the Bishop, rising, and in his turn taking both 'Sadie's hands in his, "that twenty-three years ago I had a dea.r, headstrong daughter who married —as I deemed, most unadvisedly—without my consent. It means that her husband, furious at my disapproval, took her far away from me, forbidding her even to write. It means that, when baby was born, she died. I heard.' of this and went out to find the baby. But the baby's father eluded me again. I have tried to find her ever since; and it wasn't till I entered your drawing room this evening that I knew my search was over." And then for the .second time that day Sadie threw herself into the Bishop's arms. "■Grandpa," she said half an nour later, when the Bishop had given up all thoughts of the meeting and had settled down for the evening, "my mother died with the word ' Father' on her lips—my old Nana told me so. I didn't even know your name, but expect to find you in a cottage with creepers oveT the door; and now you're in a palace! Well" —her blue eyes gleamed with humour — "I suppose you'll let me love you just the same?" And for the first time for many a long year there was a catch in the Bishop of Podminster's voice as he answered her.