marked. It was in the nature of a mortification and a penance. He
repeated prayers as he walked, his eyes cast down, his bosom pricked by
haircloth. He felt that he had already begun the expiation of the sin
of yesterday.

He found Father Frontford at home, but so occupied as to be unable to
listen to him. It would have been impossible for Philip to do as
Maurice had done, and go to a man like Strathmore; and indeed, he had
come to his Father Superior partly because of the sharpness with which
he felt that his offending would be judged. Where Maurice would
question, Philip would submit blindly and with ardent faith.

"Good-morning," the Father greeted Ashe kindly, holding out his left
hand, while the right held suspended the pen which had already produced
a heap of letters. "I am very glad to see you; but you find me
extremely busy. There are so many things to be thought of just now, and
so many letters to be written."

"Yes?" Philip responded absently.

"The election is so near at hand now," the other continued, "that we
cannot leave any stone unturned. I am writing to some of the country
clergy this morning. By the way, I wanted to speak to you about
Montfield."

Philip wondered at himself for the remoteness which the affairs of the
church had for him, so absorbed had he been in his own experiences.

"It seems to me," Father Frontford went on with fresh animation, "that
perhaps you can do something there. Can't you go down and talk with Mr.