ightforward man who spoke to me as if he
respected me; who never gave me a look that was not full of the
reverence for me that I felt was in his breast. You never paid me a
compliment, never talked to me but in words which I felt were wise and
true. You made me like you, and now, once more, I tell you that when
this trouble came I learned that I loved you. John, dear, this great
affliction has come to you--to us both, and I know you will learn to
bear it in your own patient, wise way."

"Yes, yes," he groaned; "but blind--blind! Mary--for pity's sake leave
me--in the dark--in the dark."

She rose from her knees by his side, and he uttered a sob, for he felt
that she was going; but she retained one of his hands between hers in a
firm, cool clasp.

"No, dear," she said softly; "those who love are one. John Grange, I
will never leave you, and your life shall not be dark. Heaven helping
me, it shall be my task to lighten your way. You shall see with my
eyes, dear; my hand shall always be there to guide you wherever you may
go; and some day in the future, when we have grown old and grey, you
shall look back, dear, with your strong, patient mind, and then tell me
that I have done well, and that your path in life has not been dark."

"Mary," he groaned, "for pity's sake don't tempt me; it is more than I
can bear."

"It is no temptation, John," she said softly, and in utter ignorance
that there were black shadows across her and the stricken man, she bent
down and kissed his forehead. "Last Sunday only, in church, I heard
these words--`If aught but death part me and thee.'"

She sank upon her knees once more, and with her hands clasped together
and resting upon his breast, her face turned heavenwards, her eyes
closed and her lips moving as if in prayer, while the two shadows which
had been cast on the sunlight from the door softly passed away, James
Ellis and Daniel Barnett stepping back on to the green, and standing
looking in each other's eyes, till the sound of approaching wheels was
heard. Then assuming that they had that moment come up, James Ellis and
the new head-gardener strode once more up to the door.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Ellis had been so thoroughly astounded upon seeing Mary kneeling by John
Grange's side that he had made a quick sign to Barnett to come away; and
as soon as they were at a short distance from the door he felt that his
action had been ill-judged, and likely to excite the derision of h