either to open her eyes and send her back weary and
cloyed with the world she's going into so gaily now, or else to open
thine, and show thee plain, stripped of outside glitter, the real thing
she is, that thou mayest see what a sorry wife she would make to a
Christian man. No, I'm not sorry. And unless I mistake greatly, Tom,
the time's coming when thou shalt not be sorry neither. In the
meantime, `tarry thou the Lord's leisure.' If He be the chief object of
thy desire, thy desire is safe to be fulfilled. `This is the will of
God, even our sanctification.'"

They turned to the left at the top of the hill, and went a few yards
along the lane, to a little cottage embowered in ivy, which was
Anthony's home.

"Wilt thou come in, Tom, lad?"

"No, Uncle, I thank you. You've opened my eyes, but it's made 'em smart
a bit too much to face the light as yet. I'll take a sharp trudge over
the moor, and battle it out with myself."

"Take the Lord with thee, lad. Satan'll have thee down if thou doesn't.
He's strong and full o' wiles, and if he can't conquer thee in his
black robe, he'll put on a white one. There's no harm in thy saying to
the Lord, `Lord, Thou knowest that I love Jenny Lavender'; but take care
that it does not come before, `Lord, Thou knowest that I love _Thee_.'
Maybe He's putting the same question to thee to-night, that He did to
Peter at the lake-side."

"Ay, ay, Uncle. I'll not forget. God bless thee!"

Tom wrung old Anthony's hand, and turned away.

One moment the old man paused before he went in.

"Lord, Thou lovest the lad better than I do," he said, half aloud. "Do
Thy best for him!"

Then he lifted the latch, and met a warm welcome from his wife Persis.

"Mrs Jenny, your servant!" said the smooth tones of Robin Featherstone
at the farmhouse door, about twenty hours later. "The horse awaits your
good pleasure, and will only be less proud to bear you than I shall to
ride before you."

Jenny's silly little heart fluttered at the absurd compliment.

"Farewell, Grandmother," she said, going up to the old lady. "Pray,
your blessing."

Old Mrs Lavender laid her trembling hand on the girl's head.

"May God bless thee, my maid, and make thee a blessing! I have but one
word for thee at the parting, and if thou wilt take it as thy motto for
life, thou mayest do well. `Look to the end.' Try the ground afore
thou settest down thy foot. `Many a cloudy morrow turneth out a fair
day,' a