THE BISHOP KNEW SOMETHING OF MAN, AND HE KNEW SOMETHING OF THE CHURCH;
HE EVEN KNEW SOMETHING OF THE BIBLE.

Her father when he came in commended her diligence. He read over those
damning extracts, punctuating them with chuckles; he would make an
example of that minister who had found it convenient to adopt a course
diametrically opposed to the principle involved in his early speeches.
He chuckled, reading the extracts while he paced the room, drawing upon
his stock of telling phrases, which were calculated to turn the derision
of the whole House of Commons upon his opponent.

Thus, being very well satisfied with himself, he was satisfied with her,
and kissed her, with a sigh.

"What a treasure you are to me, dearest one!" he said. There was a pause
before he added, in a contemplative tone:

"I suppose a clergyman has no need ever to hunt up the past deliverances
of another clergyman in order to confound him out of his own mouth. Ah,
no; I should fancy not."

Regret was in his voice. He seemed to suggest to her that he believed
her powers would be wasted as the wife of a man who, of course, being a
clergyman, could have no enemies.

"Dearest papa!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms, and sobbing
on his shirt front, "dearest papa, I will not leave you. I don't want to
be anyone's wife. I want to be your daughter--only to be your daughter."