"Yes, yes, by all means," said the acquiescing Finney; "though, perhaps, as Mr. Harding is no man of business, it may lead—lead to some little difficulties; but perhaps you're right. Mr. Bold, I don't think seeing Mr. Harding can do any harm." Finney saw from the expression of his client's face that he intended to have his own way.
CHAP. III.
THE BISHOP OF BARCHESTER.
Bold at once repaired to the hospital. The day was now far advanced, but he knew that Mr. Harding dined in the summer at four, that Eleanor was accustomed to drive in the evening, and that he might therefore probably find Mr. Harding alone. It was between seven and eight when he reached the slight iron gate leading into the precentor's garden, and though, as Mr. Chadwick observed, the day had been cold for June, the evening was mild, and soft, and sweet. The little gate was open. As he raised the latch he heard the notes of Mr. Harding's violoncello from the far end of the garden, and, advancing before the house and across the lawn, he found him playing: and not without an audience. The musician was seated in a garden-chair just within the summer-house, so as to allow the violoncello which he held between his knees to rest upon the dry stone flooring; before him stood a rough music desk, on which was open a page of that dear sacred book, that much-laboured and much-loved volume of church music, which had cost so many guineas; and around sat, and lay, and stood,
