Lady Ludlow spoke very gently and slowly; she always did so when she was
annoyed; it was a certain sign, the meaning of which we had all learnt.

"I think, Mr. Gray, we will drop the subject. It is one on which we are
not likely to agree."

Mr. Gray's ruddy colour grew purple and then faded away, and his face
became pale. I think both my lady and he had forgotten our presence; and
we were beginning to feel too awkward to wish to remind them of it. And
yet we could not help watching and listening with the greatest interest.

Mr. Gray drew himself up to his full height, with an unconscious feeling
of dignity. Little as was his stature, and awkward and embarrassed as he
had been only a few minutes before, I remember thinking he looked almost
as grand as my lady when he spoke.

"Your ladyship must remember that it may be my duty to speak to my
parishioners on many subjects on which they do not agree with me. I am
not at liberty to be silent, because they differ in opinion from me."

Lady Ludlow's great blue eyes dilated with surprise, and--I do
think--anger, at being thus spoken to. I am not sure whether it was very
wise in Mr. Gray. He himself looked afraid of the consequences but as if
he was determined to bear them without flinching. For a minute there was
silence. Then my lady replied--"Mr. Gray, I respect your plain speaking,
although I may wonder whether a young man of your age and position has
any right to assume that he is a better judge than one with the
experience which I have naturally gained at my time of life, and in the
station I hold."