“Yes, the Bishop sent for me, and asked me to see your father. It was partly from slips in critical knowledge, which betrayed the want of study, and the general want of thought and progress, and all the rest of it, in his papers—”
“Just the fact—”
“Yes, which a man of less reality and more superficial quickness might have concealed by mere intellectual answers, though it might have been much worse for him in the end.”
“Where is he?”
“At Rood House. Unless your mother wishes for him here, he had better stay there till he can bear to come among us again.”
“Much better, indeed,” said Jenny. “I only hope papa and mamma will see how good it is for him to be there. O, Julius, if he is taking it in such a spirit, I can think it all right for him; but for them—for them, it is very hard to bear. Nothing ever went wrong with the boys before, and Herbert—mamma’s darling!” Her eyes were full of tears.
“I wish he had had a better Rector,” said Julius.
“No, don’t say that. It was not your fault.”
“I cannot tell. An older man, or more truly a holier man, might have had more influence. We were all in a sort of laissez-aller state this autumn, and now comes the reckoning.”
“There’s papa,” said Jenny. “Had you rather go to him alone, or can I do any good?”