CHAPTER XIV
THE BISHOP’S DILEMMA
On the third Sunday in December the Right Reverend the Bishop of the diocese made his annual visitation to the parish of Christ Church.
The rector had a large class to present to him for confirmation. Not unusually large, perhaps, but the numbers were sufficient to indicate that there was no material falling off in the personal accessions to the church. It was noted, however, that among the candidates there were few people of the wealthy class. Most of those received into membership came from the families of wage-workers. Nor were the accessions from this class as large as the rector had hoped and expected they would be. The great majority of those who came to hear him preach, who sympathized with him, who even fought for him, remained, nevertheless, outside the organized body of the church. People whose lives are given over to manual labor, especially in the cities, are characteristically cautious. Through centuries of exploitation, of deception, of promises unfulfilled, they have learned to be on their guard. They are not quick to attach themselves to any body, religious or secular, to which they are to assume new and undefined obligations. Nevertheless, the bishop had no fault to find with the class presented to him for confirmation, nor with the congregations that greeted him.
In his honor, and as significant of their attitude toward the church as distinguished from their attitude toward the rector, those who had, during the last few months, deserted their pews, were out in full force. Their attendance, coupled with the attendance of a throng of people of the humbler class, taxed the church edifice to its capacity. Many were obliged to stand throughout the service and did so willingly. No reference was made by the bishop in his sermon, or from the chancel, to the troubles in the parish. It seemed to him that it would be the part of wisdom on his part, so far as his public utterances were concerned, to ignore them at this time. He was a guest of Mrs. Tracy. Ever since his elevation to the bishopric she had entertained him at her house on the occasions of his annual visitations to the parish. The bishop felt quite at home in the Tracy family. He was especially fond of Ruth. He had confirmed her. He had seen her grow into helpful and religious young womanhood. She was the fairest flower in his whole diocese. Nor was Mr. Tracy left entirely out of account. He was not a churchman, that is true, and his name was rarely mentioned in matters connected with the episcopal visitation. But he liked the bishop, and the bishop liked him, and they had many an enjoyable visit with each other before the library fire of an evening, after the other members of the family had retired for the night. The bishop was fond of a good cigar, and Mr. Tracy provided him with the choicest brands. Moreover the bishop was getting up in years; his duties were onerous and his work was wearing, and his physician had advised him, on occasion, to take something before retiring that would induce sound and restful sleep. Mr. Tracy knew exactly what would best answer that purpose, and he provided it. It was small wonder, therefore, that the Tracy house came to be regarded as a kind of episcopal residence during the period of the annual visitation.
It was here that the bishop invited the vestry to meet with him on the Monday evening following confirmation, for the purpose of discussing specifically the charges against the rector, and generally the unhappy situation in the parish. It must not be supposed that he had failed to inform himself, privately, before coming to the city, of the exact nature of the trouble. It would have been unwise not to have done so. Nor was he likely to remain in ignorance concerning the opinions of certain parishioners now that he was here. A succession of callers, mostly of the wealthier class, who had had the privilege of a personal acquaintance with him, occupied his attention during the greater part of the day. In the early afternoon Barry Malleson came to see the bishop. He felt that his voice might be potent in obtaining episcopal favor for the rector toward whom his loyalty had increased day by day. He was ushered into the reception room and told that the bishop, who was engaged with a caller in the library, would see him in a few minutes. While he was waiting, who should come in but Jane Chichester. She was rejoiced to find Barry there. It was an opportunity that she had been seeking, and that he had been avoiding, for a full week.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve been wanting awfully to see you, and it’s been ten whole days since I’ve had the remotest glimpse of you. Where in the world have you been?”
“Why,” replied Barry, “we’ve been pretty busy down at the mill lately.”
“But I’ve called you up a dozen times and they always tell me you’re out.”
“That’s the fault of Miss Bolckom, the telephone girl. I must speak to her about it.”