bear to be forgiven for it."

For the sake of peace and happiness, it must be hoped that she conquered
this feminine feeling, which springs from an equity of nature--the
desire that none should do to us more than we ever could do to them.
Certain it is that when the Rector held his dinner party, two gallant
bosoms throbbed beneath the emblem of purity and content. The military
Captain's snow-drop hung where every one might observe it, and some
gentle-witted jokes were made about its whereabouts that morning.
By-and-by it grew weary on its stalk and fell, and Erle Twemlow never
missed it. But the other snow-drop was not seen, except by the wearer
with a stolen glance, when people were making a loyal noise--a little
glance stolen at his own heart. He had made a little cuddy there
inside his inner sarcenet, and down his plaited neck-cloth ran a sly
companionway to it, so that his eyes might steal a visit to the joy that
was over his heart and in it. Thus are women adored by men, especially
those who deserve it least.

"Attention, my dear friends, attention, if you please," cried the
Rector, rising, with a keen glance at Scuddy. "I will crave your
attention before the ladies go, and theirs, for it concerns them
equally. We have passed through a period of dark peril, a long time
of trouble and anxiety and doubt. By the mercy of the Lord, we have
escaped; but with losses that have emptied our poor hearts. England has
lost her two foremost defenders, Lord Nelson, and Admiral Darling. To
them we owe it that we are now beginning the New Year happily, with the
blessing of Heaven, and my dear daughter married. Next week we shall
attend the grand funeral of the hero, and obtain good places by due
influence. My son-in-law, Percival Shargeloes, can do just as he pleases
at St. Paul's. Therefore let us now, with deep thanksgiving, and one
hand upon our hearts, lift up our glasses, and in silence pledge the
memory of our greatest men. With the spirit of Britons we echo the last
words that fell from the lips of our dying hero--'Thank God, I have
done my duty!' His memory shall abide for ever, because he loved his
country."

The company rose, laid hand on heart, and deeply bowing, said--"Amen!"

THE END.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Springhaven, by R. D. Blackmore

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