could no longer afford the fees. This was the sorry ending of many hopes,
and dreams of a double-first, a fellowship, distinction and glory that
the poor parson had long entertained for his son, and the two moped
together, in the shabby room, one on each side of the sulky fire,
thinking of dead days and finished plans, and seeing a grey future in the
years that advanced towards them. At one time there seemed some chance of
a distant relative coming forward to Lucian's assistance; and indeed it
was quite settled that he should go up to London with certain definite
aims. Mr. Taylor told the good news to his acquaintances--his coat was
too green now for any pretence of friendship; and Lucian himself spoke of
his plans to Burrows the doctor and Mr. Dixon, and one or two others.
Then the whole scheme fell through, and the parson and his son suffered
much sympathy. People, of course, had to say they were sorry, but in
reality the news was received with high spirits, with the joy with which
one sees a stone, as it rolls down a steep place, give yet another
bounding leap towards the pool beneath. Mrs. Dixon heard the pleasant
tidings from Mrs. Colley, who came in to talk about the Mothers' Meeting
and the Band of Hope. Mrs. Dixon was nursing little Athelwig, or some
such name, at the time, and made many affecting observations on the
general righteousness with which the world was governed. Indeed, poor
Lucian's disappointment seemed distinctly to increase her faith in the
Divine Order, as if it had been some example in Butler's _Analogy_.

"Aren't Mr. Taylor's views very _extreme?_" she said to her husband the
same evening.

"I am afraid they are," he replied. "I was quite _grieved_ at the last
Diocesan Conference at the way in which he spoke. The dear old bishop had
given an address on Auricular Confession; he was _forced_ to do so, you
know, after what had happened, and I must say that I never felt prouder