ree soured the good man. There had
been nothing in it to sour any one--no shade of bitterness, no thread of
unfaithfulness. The Rector firmly believed in a future state of bliss
and reunion, and he regarded his happiness as only deferred. As far as
his flock knew, the sorrow which had come to him in his youth only gave
him a peculiar sympathy for peculiar troubles. To all in sorrow the
Rector was the best of friends, but if the case was one where hearts
were touched, if that love which binds a man to a woman was in any way
the cause of the distress, then the Rector was indeed aroused to give of
his best to comfort and assist.

On the evening after her strange interview with Josephine Hart, Beatrice
put on her hat, and coming down to her mother where she sat as usual in
the pleasant drawing-room, told her that she was going to see Mr.
Ingram.

"It is rather late to-night, surely, child?"

"No, mother, it is not too late. I want particularly to see Mr. Ingram
to-night."

"Are you well, Bee? Your voice sounds tired."

"I am quite well, dear mother. Kiss me. I won't stay longer away than I
can help."

She left the house. It was getting dusk now, and the distance between
the Gray House and the Rectory was not small. But no Northbury girl
feared to be out alone, and Beatrice walked quickly, and before long
reached her destination.

The Rector was in--Beatrice would find him in his study. The old
housekeeper did not dream of conducting Miss Meadowsweet to this
apartment. She smiled at her affectionately, told her she knew the way
herself, and left her.

When Beatrice entered the study the Rector got up and took his favorite
by both her hands.

"I am glad to see you, my child," he said. "I was just feeling the
slightest _soupcon_ of loneliness, so you have come in opportunely.
Sit down, Bee. I suppose Bertram will call for you presently."

Beatrice did not make any response to this remark, but she drew a little
cane chair forward and sat down.

"Except your mother, no one will miss you more than I shall when you
leave us, Beatrice," said the Rector. "You are quite right to go, my
dear. Quite right. I see a useful and honorable career before you. But I
may be allowed just once to say that I shall be lonely without my
favorite."

"Dear Rector," said Beatrice. She came a little nearer, and almost
timidly laid her hand on his knee. Then she looked in his face. "I am
not going to leave you," she said.

"God bless