"You will fill out," said Archibald, placidly regarding the curves of his person.
Mark laid his fingers upon his brother's chest.
"Forty-three inches," said Archie. "I had a doctor look me over the other day. He said I was as sound a specimen as he'd ever examined."
"Good night," said Mark abruptly.
When Archie had left the room, Mark returned to the mirror.
"Am I envious?" he muttered. "Not for my own sake, God knows, but for hers. If I were only strong——"
He began to undress, thinking of the doctor and the train. Curiously enough the two were connected. The train rushing on and on through the quiet landscape, the doctor and he whirled on with it, fellow-passengers for a few brief minutes, meeting, parting, and meeting again in obedience to some Power who rules that good shall triumph ultimately over evil. To Mark this was and always had been a sheet-anchor. At Harrow, at Barbizon, in the pulpit of the church in King's Charteris, he had submitted to the Divine Will; but, now, if the greatest thing on earth were denied him would he be able to bow his head in resignation? Every pulse in his body throbbed a passionate—"No."
CHAPTER XVI
WESTCHESTER CATHEDRAL
It happened that Lord Randolph was anxious to consult the Dean of Westchester upon some point of municipal philanthropy, so he drove into the town earlier than usual on Whit-Sunday. Archibald accompanied him, Lord Randolph driving his own pair, which were never driven by anybody else. When the horses were working well into their collars, Lord Randolph turned to the preacher-elect and described, not without humour, his own pangs before the delivery of an important speech in the House of Commons.