‘Exactly so. He must see religion in the world, not out of it.’
‘After all, I have not heard who is this Mr. Currie, and how you know him.’
‘I know him through his brother, who is building the church in Cecily Row.’
‘A church in Cecily Row! St. Cecilia’s? Who is doing it? Honor Charlecote?’
‘No; I am.’
‘You! Tell me all about it,’ said Lucilla, leaning forward to listen with the eager air of interest which, when not half so earnest, had been always bewitching.
Poor Robert looked away, and tried to think himself explaining his scheme to the Archdeacon. ‘The place is in frightful disorder, filled with indescribable vice and misery, but there is a shadow of hope that a few may be worked on if something like a mission can be organized. Circumstances seemed to mark me out as the person to be at the cost of setting it on foot, my father’s connection with the parish giving it a claim on me. So I purchased the first site that was in the market, and the buildings are in progress, chapel, schools, orphanage, and rooms for myself and two other clergy. When all the rest is provided for, there will remain about two hundred and fifty pounds a year—just enough for three of us, living together.’
He durst not glance towards her, or he would have seen her cheek white as wax, and her eye seeking his in dismayed inquiry. There was a pause; then she forced herself to falter—‘Yes. I suppose it is very right—very grand. It is settled?’
‘The Archdeacon has seen the plans, the Bishop has consented.’
Long and deep was the silence that fell on both.