Lady Constantine, to external view, was in a position to desire many
things, and of a sort to desire them. She was obviously, by nature,
impulsive to indiscretion. But instead of exhibiting activities to
correspond, recently gratified affection lent to her manner just now a
sweet serenity, a truly Christian contentment, which it puzzled the
learned Bishop exceedingly to find in a warm young widow, and increased
his interest in her every moment. Thus matters stood when the
conversation veered round to the morning's confirmation.

'That was a singularly engaging young man who came up among Mr.
Torkingham's candidates,' said the Bishop to her somewhat abruptly.

But abruptness does not catch a woman without her wit. 'Which one?' she
said innocently.

'That youth with the "corn-coloured" hair, as a poet of the new school
would call it, who sat just at the side of the organ. Do you know who he
is?' In answering Viviette showed a little nervousness, for the first time
that day.

'O yes. He is the son of an unfortunate gentleman who was formerly
curate here,--a Mr. St. Cleeve.' 'I never saw a handsomer young man in my life,' said the Bishop. Lady
Constantine blushed. 'There was a lack of self-consciousness, too, in
his manner of presenting himself, which very much won me. A Mr. St.
Cleeve, do you say? A curate's son? His father must have been St.
Cleeve of All Angels, whom I knew. How comes he to be staying on here?
What is he doing?' Mr. Torkingham, who kept one ear on the Bishop all the lunch-time,
finding that Lady Constantine was not ready with an answer, hastened to
reply: 'Your lordship is right. His father was an All Angels' man.