It seemed to Malling as if in the future a strange thing might happen,
almost as if it must happen: it seemed to him as if Chichester might
convey his view of his rector to his rector's wife.

"Study the link," Stepton had said. "There will be development in the
link."

Already the words had proved true. There had been a development in Lady
Sophia such as Malling had certainly not anticipated. Where would it end?
Again and again, as he listened to the morning and evening sermons,
Malling had asked himself that question; again and again he had recalled
his conversation at Burlington House with Lady Sophia.

In the morning at St. Joseph's Mr. Harding had preached to a church
that was half filled; in the evening Henry Chichester had preached to a
church that was full to the doors. And each of the clergymen in turn had
listened to the other, but how differently!

Mr. Harding had ascended to the pulpit with failure staring him in
the face, and whereas on the Sunday when Malling first heard him he
had obviously fought against the malign influence which eventually
had prevailed over him, this time he had not had the vigor to make a
struggle. Certainly he had not broken down. It might be said of him,
as it was once said of a nation, that he had "muddled through." He had
preached a very poor sermon in a very poor way, nervously, indeed,
almost timidly, and with the manner of a man who was cowed and hopeless.
The powerful optimism for which he had once been distinguished had
given way to an almost unhealthy pessimism, alien surely to the minds
of all believers, of all who profess to look forward to that life of