“Come in, come in,” said the Canon. “Good morning, Lionel.”
“I hope I’m not disturbing you, father. I want to book some certificates.”
“You can never disturb me when you are fulfilling the duties of your office, my boy. Pray sit down.”
He put the Ecclesiastical Polity open on the desk.
“Hulloa, are you reading this?” asked the curate. “I’ve not looked at it since I was at Oxford.”
“Then you make a mistake, Lionel. Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Polity is not only a monument of the English Church, but also a masterwork of the English language. That is my complaint with the clergy of the present day, that they neglect the great productions of their fathers. Stevenson you read, and you read Renan, atheist though he is; but Hooker you have not looked at since you were at Oxford.”
“I see that Andover is dead, father,” said Lionel, to change the conversation.
“I look upon it as an uncommon happy release.”
“I wonder if they really will offer you the bishopric?”
“My dear boy, that is not a subject upon which I allow my thoughts to dwell. I will not conceal from you that, as the youngest surviving son of the late Lord Chancellor, I think I have some claims upon my country. And I have duties towards it as well, so that if the bishopric is offered to me I shall not hesitate to accept. You remember St. Paul’s words to Timothy? This is a true saying, if a man desire the office of a bishop he desireth a good work. But in these matters there is so much ignoble wire-pulling, so much backstairs influence to which my character is not suited and to which I could not bring myself to descend.”