he earl. Thrice he met him on the way to the walled garden
in which he was wont to take his unfrequent exercise; on one of these
occasions his lordship spoke to him courteously, the next scarcely
noticed him, the third passed him without recognition. Donal, who with
equal mind took everything as it came, troubled himself not at all
about the matter. He was doing his work as well as he knew how, and
that was enough.

Now also he saw scarcely anything of lord Forgue either; he no longer
sought his superior scholarship. Lady Arctura he saw generally once a
week at the religion-lesson; of Miss Carmichael happily nothing at all.
But as he grew more familiar with the countenance of lady Arctura, it
pained him more and more to see it so sad, so far from peaceful. What
might be the cause of it?

Most well-meaning young women are in general tolerably happy--partly
perhaps because they have few or no aspirations, not troubling
themselves about what alone is the end of thought--and partly perhaps
because they despise the sadness ever ready to assail them, as
something unworthy. But if condemned to the round of a tormenting
theological mill, and at the same time consumed with strenuous
endeavour to order thoughts and feelings according to supposed
requirements of the gospel, with little to employ them and no
companions to make them forget themselves, such would be at once more
sad and more worthy. The narrow ways trodden of men are miserable;
they have high walls on each side, and but an occasional glimpse of the
sky above; and in such paths lady Arctura was trying to walk. The true
way, though narrow, is not unlovely: most footpaths are lovelier than
high roads. It may be full of toil, but it cannot be miserable. It
has not walls, but fields and forests and gardens around it, and
limitless sky overhead. It has its sorrows, but many of them lie only
on its borders, and they that leave the path gather them. Lady Arctura
was devouring her soul in silence, with such effectual help thereto as
the self-sufficient friend, who had never encountered a real difficulty
in her life, plenteously gave her. Miss Carmichael dealt with her
honestly according to her wisdom, but that wisdom was foolishness; she
said what she thought right, but was wrong in what she counted right;
nay, she did what she thought right--but no amount of doing wrong right
can set the soul on the high table-land of freedom, or endow it with
liberating help.