it plain that the information was superfluous. He turned without a word
and marched majestically up the aisle before her to the fourth pew from
the front on the right. There he faced about and laid a protesting hand
on the carved walnut, as though absolving himself in the sight of his God
and his fellow-citizens. Honora fell on her knees.

She strove to calm herself by prayer: but the glances of a congregation
focussed between her shoulder-blades seemed to burn her back, and the
thought of the concentration of so many minds upon her distracted her
own. She could think of no definite prayer. Was this God's tabernacle? or
the market-place, and she at the tail of a cart? And was she not Hugh
Chiltern's wife, entitled to his seat in the place of worship of his
fathers? She rose from her knees, and her eyes fell on the softly glowing
colours of a stained-glass window: In memoriam--Alicia Reyburn Chiltern.
Hugh's mother, the lady in whose seat she sat.

The organist, a sprightly young man, came in and began turning over his
music, and the choir took their-places, in the old-fashioned' manner.
Then came the clergyman. His beard was white, his face long and narrow
and shrivelled, his forehead protruding, his eyes of the cold blue of a
winter's sky. The service began, and Honora repeated the familiar prayers
which she had learned by heart in childhood--until her attention was
arrested by the words she spoke: "We have offended against Thy holy
laws." Had she? Would not God bless her marriage? It was not until then
that she began to pray with an intensity that blotted out the world that
He would not punish her if she had done wrong in His sight. Surely, if
she lived henceforth in fear of Him, He would let her keep this priceless
love which had come to her! And it was impossible that He should regard
it as an inordinate and sinful affection--since it had filled her life
with light. As the wife of Hugh Chiltern she sought a blessing. Would God