ed Helmsley, as she entered.

"It's quite gone, David!" she answered cheerily--"Mending the lace often
tries one's eyes--it was nothing but that."

He looked at her intently.

"But you've been crying!" he said, with real concern.

"Oh, David! Women always cry when they feel like it!"

"But did _you_ feel like it?"

"Yes. I often do."

"Why?"

She gave a playful gesture with her hands.

"Who can tell! I remember when I was quite a child, I cried when I saw
the first primrose of the spring after a long winter. I knelt down and
kissed it, too! That's me all over. I'm stupid, David! My heart's too
big for me--and there's too much in it that never comes out!"

He took her hand gently.

"All shut up like a volcano, Mary! But the fire is there!"

She laughed, with a touch of embarrassment.

"Oh yes! The fire is there! It will take years to cool down!"

"May it never cool down!" said Helmsley--"I hope it will always burn,
and make life warm for you! For without the fire that is in _your_
heart, my dear, Heaven itself would be cold!"

CHAPTER XIX

The scandal affecting the Reverend Mr. Arbroath's reputation which had
been so graphically related by Twitt, turned out to be true in every
respect, and though considerable efforts were made to hush it up, the
outraged feelings of the reverend gentleman's wife were not to be
silenced. Proceedings for divorce were commenced, and it was understood
that there would be no defence. In due course the "big 'edlines" which
announced to the world in general that one of the most imperious "High"
Anglicans of the Church had not only slipped from moral rectitude, but
had intensified that sin by his publicly aggressive assumption of
hypocritical virtue, appeared in the newspapers, and the village of
Weircombe for about a week was brought into a certain notoriety which
was distinctly displeasing to itself. The arrival of the "dailies"
became a terror to it, and a general feeling of devout thankfulness was
experienced by the whole community, when the rightful spiritual shepherd
of the little flock returned from his sojourn abroad to take up the
reigns of government, and restore law and order to his tiny distracted
commonwealth. Fortunately for the peace of Weircombe, the frantic rush
of social events, and incidents in which actual "news" of interest has
no part, is too persistent and overwhelming for any one occurrence out
of the million to occupy more than a brief passing