None Other Gods | Page 8

and even deferential
ever since. (He always took off his hat, for example, to Mr. Mackintosh,
with great politeness.) Certainly he was not very regular at chapel, and
he did not dine in hall nearly so often as Mr. Mackintosh would have
wished (for was it not part of the University idea that men of all grades
of society should meet as equals under the college roof?). But, then, he
had never been summoned for any very grave or disgraceful breach of
the rules, and was never insolent or offensive to any of the Fellows.
Finally, he came of a very distinguished family; and Mr. Mackintosh
had the keenest remembrance still of his own single interview, three
years ago, with the Earl of Talgarth.
Mr. Mackintosh wondered, then, exactly what he would have to say to
Mr. Guiseley, and what Mr. Guiseley would have to say to him. He
thought, if the young man were really going down for good, as he had

understood this morning, it was only his plain duty to say a few tactful
words about responsibility and steadiness. That ridiculous auction
would serve as his text.
* * * * *
Mr. Mackintosh paused an instant, as he always did, before saying
"Come in!" to the knock on the door (I think he thought it helped to
create a little impression of importance). Then he said it; and Frank
walked in.
"Good evening, Mr. Guiseley.... Yes; please sit down. I understood
from you this morning that you wished for your exeat."
"Please," said Frank.
"Just so," said Mr. Mackintosh, drawing the exeat book--resembling the
butt of a check-book--towards him. "And you are going down
to-morrow?"
"Yes," said Frank.
"Going home?" murmured the Dean, inscribing Frank's name in his
neat little handwriting.
"No," said Frank.
"Not?... To London, perhaps?"
"Well, not exactly," said Frank; "at least, not just yet."
Mr. Mackintosh blotted the book carefully, and extracted the exeat. He
pushed it gently towards Frank.
"About that auction!" he said, smiling indulgently; "I did want to have
a word with you about that. It was very unusual; and I wondered.... But
I am happy to think that there was no disturbance.... But can you tell
me exactly why you chose that form of ... of ..."

"I wanted to make as much money as ever I could," said Frank.
"Indeed!... Yes.... And ... and you were successful?"
"I cleared all my debts, anyhow," said Frank serenely. "I thought that
very important."
Mr. Mackintosh smiled again. Certainly this young man was very well
behaved and deferential.
"Well, that's satisfactory. And you are going to read at the Bar now? If
you will let me say so, Mr. Guiseley, even at this late hour, I must say
that I think that a Third Class might have been bettered. But no doubt
your tutor has said all that?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Well, then, a little more application and energy now may perhaps
make up for lost time. I suppose you will go to the Temple in
October?"
Frank looked at him pensively a moment.
"No, Mr. Mackintosh," he said suddenly; "I'm going on the roads. I
mean it, quite seriously. My father's disowned me. I'm starting out
to-morrow to make my own living."
There was dead silence for an instant. The Dean's face was stricken, as
though by horror. Yet Frank saw he had not in the least taken it in.
"Yes; that's really so," he said. "Please don't argue with me about it. I'm
perfectly determined."
"Your father ... Lord Talgarth ... the roads ... your own living ... the
college authorities ... responsibility!"
Words of this sort burst from Mr. Mackintosh's mouth.
"Yes ... it's because I've become a Catholic! I expect you've heard that,

sir."
Mr. Mackintosh threw himself back (if so fierce a word may be used of
so mild a manner)--threw himself back in his chair.
"Mr. Guiseley, kindly tell me all about it. I had not heard one word--not
one word."
* * * * *
Frank made a great effort, and told the story, quite fairly and quite
politely. He described his convictions as well as he could, the various
steps he had taken, and the climax of the letter from his father. Then he
braced himself, to hear what would be said; or, rather, he retired within
himself, and, so to speak, shut the door and pulled down the blinds.
It was all said exactly as he knew it would be. Mr. Mackintosh touched
upon a loving father's impatience, the son's youth and impetuosity, the
shock to an ancient family, the responsibilities of membership in that
family, the dangers of rash decisions, and, finally, the obvious errors of
the Church of Rome. He began several sentences with the phrase: "No
thinking man at the