le. But all
my trouble was increased when I insisted on her approaching the Holy
Table in the morning. The thought of going to Holy Communion appalled
her. "Perhaps in eight or twelve months she'd be fit; but to-morrow--"

Her dread was something intense, almost frightful:--

"Sure He'll kill me, as He killed the man who towld the lie!"

I tried to reassure her:--

"But they say he'll _bleed_ if I touch Him."

I gently reasoned and argued with her. Then her objections took a more
natural turn:--

"Sure the people will all rise up and lave the chapel."

Then it became a question of dress. And it was with the greatest
difficulty, and only by appealing to her humility, and as a penance,
that I at last induced her to consent to come up to the altar rails
after all the people had received Holy Communion. There was a slight
stir next morning when all the people had reverently retired from the
Holy Table. I waited, holding the Sacred Host over the Ciborium. The
people wondered. Then, from the farthest recess of the church, a draped
figure stole slowly up the aisle. All knew it was Nance. So far from
contempt, only pity, deep pity, filled the hearts of old and young; and
one could hear clearly the _tchk! tchk!_ that curious click of sympathy
which I believe is peculiar to our people. The tears streamed down the
face of the poor penitent as I placed the Sacred Host upon her tongue.
Then she rose strengthened, and walked meekly, but firmly, back to her
place. As she did, I noticed that she wore a thick black shawl. It was
the quick eye of my curate that had seen all. It was his gentle, kind
heart that forestalled me.

I got an awful scolding from Hannah when I came home that night in the
rain.

"Never mind, Hannah," I said, when she had exhausted her diatribe, "I
never did a better night's work in my life."

She looked at me keenly; but these poor women have some queer way of
understanding things; and she said humbly:--

"Than' God!"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 5: Charity towards men, as the charity of God towards us.]

CHAPTER XV

HOLLY AND IVY

The progress of my curate and myself in our study of the Greek authors
is not so steady or so successful as we had anticipated. Somehow or
other we drift away from the subject-matter of our evening lessons, and
I am beginning to perceive that his tastes are more modern, or, to speak
more correctly, they tend to less archaic and more interesting studies.
Then agai