The Bishops Secret | Page 9

a charity which thinketh no
evil, Mrs Pansey,' and with great heat Gabriel, forgetting his manners,
walked off without taking leave of either the lady or Miss Norsham.
Mrs Pansey tossed her turban and snorted, but seeing very plainly that
she had gone too far, held for once her virulent tongue. Cargrim rubbed
his hands and laughed softly.
'Our young friend talks warmly, Mrs Pansey. The natural chivalry of
youth, my dear lady--nothing more.'
'I'll make it my business to assure myself that it is nothing more,' said
Mrs Pansey, in low tones. 'I fear very much that the misguided young
man has fallen into the lures of this daughter of Heth. Do you know
anything about her, Mr Cargrim?'
Too wise to commit himself to speech, the chaplain cast up his pale
eyes and looked volumes. This was quite enough for Mrs Pansey; she
scented evil like a social vulture, and taking Cargrim's arm dragged him
away to find out all the bad she could about The Derby Winner and its
too attractive barmaid.

Left to herself, Miss Norsham seized upon Dean Alder, to whom she
had been lately introduced, and played with the artillery of her eyes on
that unattractive churchman. Mr Dean was old and wizen, but he was
unmarried and rich, so Miss Norsham thought it might be worth her
while to play Vivien to this clerical Merlin. His weak point,--speedily
discovered,--was archæology, and she was soon listening to a dry
description of his researches into Beorminster municipal chronicles.
But it was desperately hard work to fix her attention.
'Beorminster,' explained the pedantic dean, not unmoved by his
listener's artificial charms, 'is derived from two Anglo-Saxon
words--Bëorh a hill, and mynster the church of a monastery. Anciently,
our city was called Bëorhmynster, "the church of the hill," for, as you
can see, my dear young lady, our cathedral is built on the top of a
considerable rise, and thence gained its name. The townsfolk were
formerly vassals, and even serfs, of the monastery which was destroyed
by Henry VIII.; but the Reformation brought about by that king put an
end to the abbot's power. The head of the Bëorhmynster monastery was
a mitred abbot--'
'And Bishop Pendle is a mitred bishop,' interposed the fair Daisy, to
show the quickness of her understanding, and thereby displaying her
ignorance.
'All bishops are mitred,' said Dr Alder, testily; 'a crozier and a mitre are
the symbols of their high office. But the Romish abbots of
Bëorhmynster were not bishops although they were mitred prelates.'
'Oh, how very, very amusing,' cried Daisy, suppressing a yawn. 'And
the name of the river, dear Mr Dean? Does Beorflete mean the church
of the hill too?'
'Certainly not, Miss Norsham. "Flete," formerly "fleot," is a
Scandinavian word and signifies "a flood," "a stream," "a channel."
Bëorhfleot, or--as we now erroneously call it--Beorflete, means, in the
vulgar tongue, the flood or stream of the hill. Even in Normandy the
word fleot has been corrupted, for the town now called Harfleur was
formerly correctly designated "Havoflete." But I am afraid you find this

information dull, Miss Norsham!'
This last remark was occasioned by Daisy yawning. It is true that she
held a fan, and had politely hidden her mouth when yawning;
unfortunately, the fan was of transparent material, and Daisy quite
forgot that Mr Dean could see the yawn, which he certainly did. In
some confusion she extricated herself from an awkward situation by
protesting that she was not tired but hungry, and suggested that Dr
Alder should continue his instructive conversation at supper. Mollified
by this dexterous evasion, which he saw no reason to disbelieve, the
dean politely escorted his companion to the regions of champagne and
chicken, both of which aided the lady to sustain further doses of
dry-as-dust facts dug out of a monastic past by the persevering Dr
Alder. It was in this artful fashion that the town mouse strove to
ensnare the church mouse, and succeeded so well that when Mr Dean
went home to his lonely house he concluded that it was just as well the
monastic institution of celibacy had been abolished.
On leaving Mrs Pansey in disgust, Gabriel proceeded with considerable
heat into the next room, where his mother held her court as hostess.
Mrs Pendle was a pale, slight, small-framed woman with golden hair,
languid eyes, and a languid manner. Owing to her delicate health she
could not stand for any length of time, and therefore occupied a large
and comfortable arm-chair. Her daughter Lucy, who resembled her
closely in looks, but who had more colour in her face, stood near at
hand talking to her lover. Both ladies were dressed in white silk, with
few ornaments, and looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.
Certainly Mrs