A company of guests met at the Bishop's hospitable breakfast table on this particular fifth of November, amongst whom were Mrs. Arundel, on the Bishop's right hand, and Gratian Anson, who was levelling her shafts at the chaplain, and declaring her delight at having been so fortunate as to be in Wells at the time of the bull-baiting.
"You were so kind to invite us to see it, my lord," she said; "for, of course, I mean to see it."
"My dear young lady, I am sure you must not venture forth to-day. We must make the time pass as pleasantly as we can, within the precincts of the palace, unless you like to step over to the cloister-door and attend the cathedral service."
"And do you mean to say, my lord, you are not going to see the bull-baiting? Why, Mr. Dacres tells me that the last Dean used to assemble a large party on purpose to see the spectacle; I must see it!"
The gentle bishop seemed a little taken aback by Gratian's determination to have her own way.
"Well," he said, "I leave you in the hands of your guardian, Mrs. Arundel, and you could not be in better keeping."
"Mr. Dacres, Mr. Law, you will take me. I should so love to see the fun, and I can't go alone."
"Gratian," Mrs. Arundel said, "it is not safe to think of it. There will be such a crowd, you must not attempt it."
Gratian smiled, and, turning to Mr. Dacres, said:
"I mean to go; it will be like a scene in Spain."