husband and the clergyman without interfering if she could, and now she
instinctively spoke, without stopping to consider where she was.

"It is precisely for that reason," she said, "that art seems to me to
fall below religion. Art can make man contented with life only by
keeping his attention fixed upon an ideal, while religion reconciles us
to life as it really is."

A murmur of assent showed Arthur how much against the feeling of those
around him were the views he was advancing.

"Oh, well," he said, in a droll _sotto voce_, "if it is coming down to
a family difference we will continue it in private."

And he abandoned the discussion.

"It seems to me," pursued Mr. Candish, only half conscious that Mrs.
Fenton had come to his aid, "that Bishop Blougram represents the most
dangerous spirit of the age. His paltering with truth is a form of
casuistry of which we see altogether too much nowadays."

"Do you think," asked a timid feminine voice, "that Blougram was
_quite_ serious? That he really meant all he said, I mean?"

The president looked at the speaker with despair in his glance; but she
was adorably pretty and of excellent social position, so that snubbing
was not to be thought of. Moreover, he was thoroughly well trained in
keeping his temper under the severest provocation, so he expressed his
feelings merely by a deprecatory smile.