f Blanche's departure from
home after her marriage. John Feversham's clerical labours were to lie
in the north of Cheshire, so Blanche would not be far away, and might be
expected to visit at the Court more frequently than Lucrece or Jack. By
the bride's especial request, the whole family from the parsonage were
present at the ceremony, and Lysken was one of the bridesmaids.

The guests had been dancing in the hall; they were now resting, standing
or sitting in small groups, and conversing,--when Clare stole out of the
garden-door, and made her way to the arbour.

She could not exactly tell why she felt so sad. Of course, she was
sorry to lose Blanche. Such an occasion did not seem to Clare at all
proper for mirth and feasting: on the contrary, it felt the thing next
saddest to a funeral. They would see Blanche now and then, no doubt;
but she was lost to them on the whole: she would never again be, what
she had always been till now, one of themselves, an integral part of the
home. And they were growing fewer; only four left now, where there had
once been a household of eight. And Clare felt a little of the
sadness--felt much more deeply by some than others--of being, though
loved by several, yet first with none. Well, God had fixed her lot: and
it was a good one, she whispered to herself, as if to repel the sadness
gathering at her heart--it was a good one. She would always live at
home; she would grow old, ministering to father and mother and aunt--
wanted and looked for by all three; not useless--far from it. And that
was a great deal. What if the Lord had not thought her meet for work in
His outer vineyard?--was not this little home-corner in His vineyard
still?--She was not a foundation-stone, not a cornice, not a pillar, in
the Church of God. Nay, she thought herself not even one of the stones
in the wall: only a bit of mortar, filling up a crevice. But the bit of
mortar was wanted, and was in its right place, because the Builder had
put it there. That was a great deal--oh yes, it was everything.

"And yet," said Clare's heart,--"and yet!--"

For this was not an unlabelled sorrow. Arthur Tremayne's name was
written all over it. And Clare had to keep her heart stayed on two
passages of Scripture, which she took as specially for her and those in
her position. It is true, they were written of men: but did not the
grammar say that the masculine included the feminine? If so, what right
had any one t