hbors who were friends of the
rector and his wife, were also invited, and among them was Miss
Meredith.

Mr. and Mrs. Bevis had long ere now called upon her, and found her, as
Mrs. Bevis said, fit for any society. She had lunched several times with
them, and, her health being now greatly restored, was the readier to
accept the present invitation, that she was growing again anxious about
employment.

Almost every one was taken with her sweet manner, shaded with sadness.
At one time self-dissatisfaction had made her too anxious to please: in
the mirror of other minds she sought a less unfavorable reflection of
herself. But trouble had greatly modified this tendency, and taken the
too-much out of her courtesy.

She and Mrs. Puckridge went together, and Faber, calling soon after,
found the door locked. He saw the gathering in the park, however, had
heard something about the ceremony, concluded they were assisting, and,
after a little questioning with himself, led his horse to the gate, made
fast the reins to it, went in, and approached the little assembly. Ere
he reached it, he saw them kneel, whereupon he made a circuit and got
behind a tree, for he would not willingly seem rude, and he dared not be
hypocritical. Thence he descried Juliet kneeling with the rest, and
could not help being rather annoyed. Neither could he help being a
little struck with the unusual kind of prayer the curate was making; for
he spoke as to the God of workmen, the God of invention and creation,
who made the hearts of his creatures so like his own that they must
build and make.

When the observance was over, and the people were scattering in groups,
till they should be summoned to the repast prepared for them, the rector
caught sight of the doctor, and went to him.

"Ha, Faber!" he cried, holding out his hand, "this _is_ kind of you! I
should hardly have expected you to be present on such an occasion!"

"I hoped my presence would not offend you," answered the doctor. "I did
not presume to come closer than just within earshot of your devotions.
Neither must you think me unfriendly for keeping aloof."

"Certainly not. I would not have you guilty of irreverence."

"That could hardly be, if I recognized no presence."

"There was at least," rejoined Mr. Bevis, "the presence of a good many
of your neighbors, to whom you never fail to recognize your duty, and
that is the second half of religion: would it not have showed want of
reverence towa