"I am so jealous that such a brave deed was not done by a soldier," he said. It was a long time before the boys were satisfied there was nothing more to see or hear, and were content to come home with their mother and her young friends; and all the way back, they poured forth a stream of questions as to why the fire-engines had been useless, and how a fire could be best put out, and what would happen if the Cathedral were on fire, and had it ever been on fire? Ask "Now, my dear children, you have asked so many questions, and I really cannot answer them. your papa to-night." "So we will, Mamma." Saturday evening came, and again the Palace doors were thrown open. Some faces had disappeared-the unhappy candidates who had failed to pass the required examination. There was no duty which the Bishop felt more painfully than such decisions; but, on the other hand, no duty was more clear. Mrs. Sinclair lost no time in introducing her young friends to the hero of the week-Mr. Henry Sherborne. He met them as old acquaintances. "I know all about you," he said. "My brother wrote such charming accounts of his voyage in the Seagull, and of his stay in Madeira! And he said he hoped some chance would enable us to make acquaintance with you. I had no idea you were settled here till Mrs. Sinclair mentioned your names, and then I felt sure, from what she said, that you must be my brother's friends." Alice took up the conversation, and asked "When did you hear from your brother last? We have heard nothing since he left my uncle on reaching Australia.” Henry Sherborne was proceeding to give an account of how "Bob" was engaged in farming, when Mrs. Sinclair emphatically enjoined silence, as the choristers were about to sing. "Was music ever so ill-timed?" thought Alice to herself. It was, indeed, most tantalizing. Mr. Sherborne was carried off by the Bishop to an inner room, where conversation could be carried on without detriment to the music and the music-lovers; and no further opportunity for talking occurred before the party broke up, as it did in good time. It may well be imagined that the ceremony on Sun day acquired fresh interest in the eyes of many, owing to the events of the week. But no one can be present at an Ordination, when performed by one whose heart is in his work, as was always the case with the Bishop of Norhambury, without a deep impression being made, and deep questions being awakened in the minds of those present. One by one, the white-robed candidates knelt before their venerable Bishop; one by one, they took their solemn vows; and then, as the last silvery notes of the Ordination Hymn died away, the selected candidate rose to read the Gospel appointed for the occasion. And, as the clear, sweet voice of Mr. Sherborne was heard, was it wonderful that tears dimmed the eyes, and stole down the cheeks, of those who, two days before, had seen him so readily risking his own life to save another? CHAPTER XIV. A COUNTY MEETING. WORK never ceases when people are in earnest. When one labour is over, another begins. So it was with the good Bishop of Norhambury. No sooner was the Ordination over, than it became necessary to consider the distress caused by the late storm. The Bishop convened the town clergy; the Mayor convened the laity. Englishmen are never backward when a local or national calamity occurs; and so in the present case. Before many days had elapsed, it was announced that a public meeting would be held in the ensuing week, and that a subscription list was opened for the relief of the sufferers by the storm. The Lord-Lieutenant was invited to take the chair at the coming meeting, but previous engagements obliged him to decline. The Bishop was next asked, and consented. "I trust," he said to the Mayor, who came to confer with him about the meeting, "that, as all have suffered alike, all will be relieved alike; and that all party feeling will be set aside on this occasion." "I am sure, I hope so too, my Lord." The meeting took place in the Town Hall, and a goodly array of laity and clergy appeared on the platform. The county members came, of course. (There was every prospect of a general election within the year.) The Squires of the parishes which had suffered most gave eloquent accounts of the heartrending scenes of distress they had witnessed; the utter ruin of industrious cottagers. Such was the destruction of window-glass alone, that the town of Norhambury could not supply the deficiency; and a steamer was despatched from the nearest port, to bring a cargo of glass from London. Every description of food, both for man and beast, was washed away or torn up by the violence of the hurricane. Large sums were subscribed on the spot. Those who had been spared offered thank-offerings. Those who had suffered, and were able to do so, gave from sympathy. |