ory. In the rector's days at
the theological school, he had himself known those doubts which may lead
to despair, or to a wider and unflinching gaze into the mysteries of
light. But Archibald Howe reached neither one condition nor the other.
He questioned many things; he even knew the heartache which the very fear
of losing faith gives. But the way was too hard, and the toil and anguish
of the soul too great; he turned back into the familiar paths of the
religion he knew and loved; and doubt grew vague, not in assured belief,
but in the plain duties of life. After a little while, he almost forgot
that he ever had doubted. Only now and then, when some questioning soul
came to him, would he realize that he could not help it by his own
experience, only by a formula,--a text-book spirituality; then he would
remember, and promise himself that the day should come when he would face
uncertainty and know what he believed. But it was continually eluding
him, and being put off; he could not bear to run the risk of disturbing
the faith of others; life was too full; he had not the time for study and
research,--and perhaps it would all end in deeper darkness. Better be
content with what light he had. So duty was neglected, and his easy,
tranquil life flowed on.

Writing his careless rebuke to Helen brought this past unpleasantly
before his mind; he was glad when he had sanded his paper and thrust the
folded letter into its envelope, and could forget once more.

Dick Forsythe had prolonged his call by being very careful what flowers
were picked for his mother, and he and Lois wandered over the whole
garden, searching for the most perfect roses, before he acknowledged that
he was content. When they parted at the iron gate, he was more in love
than ever, and Lois walked back to the rectory, thinking with a vague
dissatisfaction how much she would miss the Forsythes when they left
Ashurst.

But Mr. Forsythe's was not the sort of love which demanded solitude or
silence, so that when he saw Mr. Dale coming from Mr. Denner's little law
office, he made haste to join him. Conversation of any sort, and with any
person, was a necessity to this young man, and Mr. Dale was better than
no one.

"I've just been to the rectory," he said, as he reached the older man's
side.

"I suppose so," Mr. Dale answered shortly. Perhaps he was the only person
in Ashurst who was not blinded by the glamour of that World which Mr.
Forsythe represented, and w