the trouble about the chapel, Mary Lowther was sympathetic
and droll, as she would have been had there been upon her the weight
of no love misfortune. "She had trust," she said, "in Mr. Quickenham,
who no doubt would succeed in harassing the enemy, even though he
might be unable to obtain ultimate conquest. And then there seemed
to be a fair prospect that the building would fall of itself, which
surely would be a great triumph. And, after all, might it not fairly
be hoped that the pleasantness of the Vicarage garden, which Mr.
Puddleham must see every time he visited his chapel, might be quite
as galling and as vexatious to him as would be the ugliness of the
Methodist building to the Fenwicks?

"You should take comfort in the reflection that his sides will be
quite as full of thorns as your own," said Mary; "and perhaps there
may come some blessed opportunity for crushing him altogether by
heaping hot coals of fire on his head. Offer him the use of the
Vicarage lawn for one of his school tea-parties, and that, I should
think, would about finish him."

This was all very well, and was written on purpose to show to Mrs.
Fenwick that Mary could still be funny in spite of her troubles; but
the pith of the letter, as Mrs. Fenwick well understood, lay in the
few words of the last paragraph.

"Don't suppose, dear, that I am going to die of a broken heart. I
mean to live and to be as happy as any of you. But you must let me go
on in my own way. I am not at all sure that being married is not more
trouble than it is worth."

That she was deceiving herself in saying this Mary knew well enough;
and Mrs. Fenwick, too, guessed that it was so. Nevertheless, it was
plain enough that nothing more could be said about Mr. Gilmore just
at present.

"You ought to blow him up, and make him come to us," Mrs. Fenwick
said to her husband.

"It is all very well to say that, but one man can't blow another
up, as women do. Men don't talk to each other about the things that
concern them nearly,--unless it be about money."

"What do they talk about, then?"

"About matters that don't concern them nearly;--game, politics, and
the state of the weather. If I were to mention Mary's name to him, he
would feel it to be an impertinence. You can say what you please."

Soon after this, Gilmore came again to the Vicarage; but he was
careful to come when the Vicar would not be there. He sauntered into
the garden by the little gate from the churchyar