ure, my dear! I don't think any
woman is worth so much to a man."

Mary bit her lips in sorrow for what she had said. "I was thinking
of his own speech about himself, Janet, not of my worth. It does not
astonish you more than it does me that such a man as Mr. Gilmore
should be perplexed in spirit for such a cause. But he says that he
is perplexed."

"Of course he is perplexed, and of course I was in joke. Only it does
seem so hard upon him! I should like to shake you till you fell into
his arms. I know it would be best for you. You will go on examining
your own feelings and doubting about your heart, and waiting for
something that will never come till you will have lost your time.
That is the way old maids are made. If you married Harry, by the time
your first child was born you would think that he was Jupiter,--just
as I think that Frank is."

Mrs. Fenwick owned, however, that as matters stood at present, it
would be best that Mary should return home; and letters were written
that afternoon to say that she would be at Loring by the middle of
next week.

The Vicar was not seen till dinner-time, and then he came home in
considerable perplexity of spirit. It was agreed between the two
women that the fate of Harry Gilmore, as far as it had been decided,
should be told to Mr. Fenwick by his wife; and she, though she was
vexed, and almost angry with Mary, promised to make the best of it.

"She'll lose him at last; that'll be the end of it," said the parson,
as he scoured his face with a towel after washing it.

"I never saw a man so much in love in my life," said Mrs. Fenwick.

"But iron won't remain long at red heat," said he. "What she says
herself would be the best for him. He'll break up and go away for a
time, and then, when he comes back, there'll be somebody else. She'll
live to repent it."

"When she's away from him there may be a change."

"Fiddlestick!" said the parson.

Mary, when she met him before dinner, could see that he was angry
with her, but she bore it with the utmost meekness. She believed of
herself that she was much to blame in that she could not fall in love
with Harry Gilmore. Mrs. Fenwick had also asked a question or two
about Sam Brattle during the dressing of her husband; but he had
declined to say anything on that subject till they two should be
secluded together for the night.

CHAPTER V.

THE MILLER.

Mr. Fenwick reached Brattle's mill about two o'clock in the day.
Dur