o the pew in which the family waited as usual for the rest of
the congregation to leave the church. Mrs. Wesley took the surplice,
as she invariably took her husband's, to carry it home and hang it in
the wardrobe. They walked out. A fortnight before, his sisters had
begun to discuss his sermon and rally him upon it as soon as they
found themselves in the porch. To-day they were silent: and again at
dinner, though John and his mother made an effort to talk of trivial
matters, the girls scarcely spoke. Charles only seemed in good
spirits and chattered away at ease, glancing at his brother from time
to time with a droll twinkle in his eye.

Early next morning John set out for Epworth, having promised to
relieve his father and visit the sick and poor there during the week.
At Scawsit Bridge he met the Rector returning. The two shook hands
and stood for a minute discussing some details of parish work: then
each continued on his way. Not a word was said of the sermon.

CHAPTER XV.

John remained at Epworth until Thursday evening. Dark was falling
when he set out to tramp back to Wroote, but the guns of a few late
partridge-shooters yet echoed across the common. A little beyond
Scawsit Bridge a figure came over the fields towards him, walking
swiftly in the twilight--a woman. He drew aside to let her pass; but
in that instant she stretched out both hands to him and he recognised
her.

"Hetty!"

She dropped her arms. "Are you not going to kiss me, Jack? Do you,
too, cast me off?"

"God forbid!" he said, and lifted his face; for she was the taller by
two inches. With a sob of joy she put out both hands again and drew
his lips to hers, a palm pressed on either cheek.

"But what are you doing here?" he asked.

"My husband has business at Haxey. We came from Lincoln this
morning, and just before sunset I crept over for a look at the house,
hoping for a glimpse of you and Charles. They will not have me
inside, Jack: father will not see me, and has forbidden the others.
But I saw Johnny Whitelamb. He told me that Charles was indoors, at
work transcribing for father, and not easily fetched out; but that
you were expected home from Epworth to-night. So I came to meet you.
Was I running? I dare say. I was thirsty to see your face, dear,
and hear your voice."

"We have all dealt hardly with you, Hetty."

"Ah, let that be! I must not pity myself, you understand? Indeed,
dear, I was not thinking of m