Mr. Underwood. The machinery was perfect, but the spring was failing;
the salt was there, but where was the savour? The discourses he heard
from his rector were in one point of view faultless, but the old
Scottish word 'fushionless' would rise into his thoughts whenever
they ended, and something of effect and point was sure to fail; they
were bodies without souls, and might well satisfy a certain excellent
solicitor, who always praised them as 'just the right medium, sober,
moderate, and unexciting.'

In the first pleasure of a strong, active, and enterprising man, at
finding his plans unopposed by authority, Mr. Underwood had been
delighted with his rectory ready consent to whatever he undertook,
and was the last person to perceive that Mr. Bevan, though objecting
to nothing, let all the rough and tough work lapse upon his curates,
and took nothing but the graceful representative part. Even then, Mr.
Underwood had something to say in his defence; Mr. Bevan was
valetudinarian in his habits, and besides--he was in the midst of a
courtship--after his marriage he would give his mind to his parish.

For Mr. Bevan, hitherto a confirmed and rather precise and luxurious
bachelor, to the general surprise, married a certain Lady Price, the
young widow of an old admiral, and with her began a new regime.

My Lady, as every one called her, since she retained her title and
name, was by no means desirous of altering the ornamental
arrangements in church, which she regarded with pride; but she was
doubly anxious to guard her husband's health, and she also had the
sharpest eye to the main chance. Hitherto, whatever had been the
disappointments and shortcomings at the Rectory, there had been free-
handed expenditure, and no stint either in charity or the expenses