Nor Meynell himself?
Yet France was certain that Barron had not been idle, that he had not let it drop. "I advised him to let it drop"—he said uneasily to himself—"that was all I could do."
Then he looked round him, at the faces of the women present. He scarcely knew any of them. Was she among them—the lady of Barron's tale? He thought of the story as he might have thought of the plot of a novel. When medieval charters were not to be had, it made an interesting subject of speculation. And Barron could not have confided it to any one in the diocese, so discreet—so absolutely discreet—as he.
* * * * *
"I gather this Movement of yours is rapidly becoming formidable?" said
Norham to his companion.
He spoke with the affectation of interest that all politicians in office must learn. But there was no heart in it, and Meynell wondered why the great man had desired to speak with him at all.
He replied that the growth of the Movement was certainly a startling fact.
"It is now clear that we must ultimately go to Parliament. The immediate result in the Church courts is of course not in doubt. But our hope lies in such demonstrations in the country as may induce Parliament"—he paused, laying a quiet emphasis on each word—"to reconsider—and resettle—the conditions of membership and office in the English Church."
"Good heavens!" cried Norham, throwing up his hand—"What a prospect! If that business once gets into the House of Commons, it'll have everything else out."
"Yes. It's big enough to ask for time—and take it."